


Shades of Grey: Belief Module

by CavalierConvoy



Series: Primax 984α-ﬡג, Iteration 1: Brash [2]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Bar Room Brawl, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Accidents, Car Chases, Deal with a Devil, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Folklore I learned from Gargoyles and Mercedes Lackey when I was a kid, Gen, Haunting, Mild Gore, Mind Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Multiverse, Police Procedural, Quantum Mechanics, Scheming, Scourge is Skywarp, Space Battles, Temporal Paradox, Thundercracker is alive, quantum entanglement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 89,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy
Summary: A patrol through the streets of a commercial development near the 5 turns into a kidnapping as one of the Autobots is hijacked by a boy with a knack for manipulating electronics...including the sapient Cybertronians. A local police detective, originally investigating a drug ring, is dragged into an intergalactic custody battle. Starscream schemes to how to work this to his advantage, even if his only ally is a turncoat ex who wants nothing to do with him.Wait. Make that two turncoat exes.
Relationships: Skyfire & Starscream (Transformers), Starscream (Transformers) & Original Character(s), Waspinator & Original Characters, Waspinator & Starscream
Series: Primax 984α-ﬡג, Iteration 1: Brash [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882957
Kudos: 2





	1. Pick Up The Chase!

***   
Portland, Oregon    
Earth

_...Patience... _

He was a scrawny street rat of no real memorable features, just another face in a crowd of humans...

_...Timing... _

Thin, though oad shouldered, the youth darted through the crowded sidewalks of Portland, his emerald green eyes studying the mundane suited stiffs. He had nothing in common with his prey; a boy barely an adult with a pair of tattered jeans and a black tee-shirt underneath a light forest cammie army jacket, his combat boots noiseless against the din of the mundane. Red-brown hair fell into his eyes; he pushed it back over his ear with a long, slender hand.

_...There... _

A man in an open trench coat headed toward him, his attention to his cell phone pressed against his ear. He had a smile on his face. The suit he boasted was Armati, the trench coat, Italian leather.

_ This guy was loaded. _

The boy glanced up at the bank's clock to his right. 5:45 pm, forty-two degrees Fahrenheit. His eyes darted back to his intended victim, still talking, still nodding, burst into a chuckle, then continued his conversation with the piece of plastic.

_...Now... _

With a bump of the shoulder, the boy stumbled, his face showing feinted surprise as the man in the Italian leather trenchcoat caught him with his free arm.

"Just a second, Ralph," He uprighted the boy. "You okay, son? Sorry about that, didn't see you there."

"Oh, fine, sir, thanks..." the boy nodded quickly, his voice embarrassed. "I should have been looking where I was going..."

"No problem..." The man nodded, then walked away, returning to his conversation.

With a sigh, the boy disappeared into the ocean of people, following a current down to a subway terminal.

A high-pitch whine suddenly alerted him. Electronic in nature...

_...Police-issued tracking frequency... _

"Shit..." the boy dodged passed through the stall and into the southbound train. It was extremely crowded.

Good.

Casually, he flipped open the wallet he had lifted from the man with the cell phone and opened the bill fold.

Sure enough, a tracker was sewed into the leather of the wallet.

Glancing over his shoulder, he stuck his finger on the tracking device. Reverting his attention back to the wallet, he narrowed his eyes and stared at the nettlesome electronic.

_ Short, _ he ordered mentally. There was a slight snap, and the little blinking red light in the panel died.

The high-pitched frequency halted abruptly. Another seemingly casual glance over his shoulder, he saw a couple of policemen staring down at a palm-puter, bewildered.

With a quiet chuckle to himself, Luke MacArin weaved through the subway cars with the ease of a dancer, disappearing once more in the crowd.

*

The alleyway was called Hell's Pantry by the denizens who live there; makeshift tents and trash-can fires were littered in between the soggy boxes and dumpsters.

Luke had claimed a rather dry area inside a condemned church at the end of the alleyway, farthest away from most of the other homeless people. He shared the church with four others around his age: Tobias, a large kid with powerful hands and a sharp tongue, his twin sister Tabitha, a petite waif with a beautiful face and quiet demeanor, Archie, the quote-unquote breadwinner of the group with his dealings with the local drug dealers, and his girlfriend, Jackie, a fiery red-head who was four months pregnant.

Save Tabby, these kids were not his friends. They were merely roommates, and agreed to protect one another in case of a territory raid or bad drug bust or something of the sort.

Luke growled as he entered the area that had become his home. He did not want to be there; perhaps if he hadn't been abandoned by his wanderlust mother when he was five, things would have been different.

With a disgruntled sigh, he pushed open a flap to a tent made from a green tarp, patched with duct tape.

"Mrs. Gorden?" he beckoned, unneeded. The elderly woman from her knitting looked up and smiled. She and her husband had been evicted from their apartment two months ago by a landlord who was selling their apartment to the city to be torn down for parking space. The Gordens, with no children to help them, searched for another affordable apartment to no avail.

"Luke? Come on in," Mrs. Gorden waved him to come closer. She was draped in a thick homemade quilt, beautifully crafted under the dinge, her hands covered in woolen gloves. "How are you today? Mr. Gorden just stepped out for a bit, but he'll be back-"

"Mrs. Gorden, I brought you something," he whispered, closing the flap of the tent and unslinging his backpack from his shoulder. Carefully, he pulled out a paper bag and, from within that, a paper container of soup from the deli a few blocks down. "Thought you and Mr. Gorden would like to have some fresh soup. Chicken Noodle. Probably not as good as how you make it, but I didn't have time to pick up ingredients."

"Oh, bless your heart, Luke," she clapped her hands together, her knitting dropping into her lap. "The Lord must truly smile upon us to bless us with such good friends to watch us, praise the Lord! I wish I had something to give you in return-"

"Don't worry about it, Mrs. Gorden. You need everything more than I."

"You've a good heart, Luke. I wish the others were like you." Her grey eyes hooded. "They are so selfish, even when they are in need. They've become no more than intelligent dogs, fighting over the last scrap of meal."

"That's how they grew up," Luke retorted. "They've lived on the streets most of their lives.”

"But still, they could learn to show the respect they demand."

"If so, then we would all be better off," the boy nodded. "But it's not just the homeless...the ones who have their houses...there are those who are no different than Archie."

A sudden scream in the alleyway interrupted their discussion. Luke bolted to his feet and peered out of the tent flap, Mrs. Gorden leaning with a groan to peek under his arm.

"What's going on, Luke?" she questioned. "Damn my old eyes, what's going on?"

"Looks like a drug bust," he whispered.

"That no-good Archie, no doubt."

"Perhaps...I'm going to check it out. You stay here, and keep warm."

"I don't think I'm in the position to argue. You be careful, Luke."

"I will."

With that, the boy stepped out of the tent, staring at the four cops surrounding the Nordic young adult. Archie instantly met Luke's green eyes and narrowed his cold blue ones.

"He's the one you're looking for," he nodded towards the smaller boy. "He's the one who's been dealing..."

"What?" Luke arched both brows.

The cops turned.

And Luke bolted.

Fear was an interesting motivator. Anger too, anger that wanted to strangle the accuser.  _ What the hell was he thinking? _

He had to get out of town fast...but how?

*

Five blocks away from the drug bust, four creatures from another planet remained hidden. A sharp-looking Chevy Z24, white with black decals and bumpers, was parked at the end of the street, next to an old-style yellow Volkswagen Beetle, which in turn was between the Cavalier and a blue Corvette with red flames on the wheelbase, the final car being a large black Pontiac GTO. Aside from the Z24, the four looked like museum-quality showpieces, with the exception of the bumper stickers on the Beetle.

"Anyone care to explain what we're doing?" Cavalier piped up suddenly, bored out of her neural processor.

"We're staking out," Bumblebee retorted, almost excitedly. "We're undercover."

"We're showing off our new paint jobs," Tracks beamed. "Oh, I was so lucky to find the right colour for my fender...it matches perfectly!"

"Will you guys quiet down?" the GTO hissed. "Rodimus sends three of the most attention-getting bots, plus one of the loudest-"

"Hey!" Cavalier protested.

"-For a stakeout. Good kid, good ideas, needs a bit more experience..." She trailed off. "Tracks, I think you did a lousy job with my symbol..."

"No way! I never screw up a paint job!" The Corvette protested.

"She's referring to the fact her symbol's got two faint purple horns," Cavalier smirked.

There was a moment of silence.

"Shut the slag up, Cav," Artemis ordered. "But she's right...did you just paint over the old one or what?"

"Blame that on Jazz," Tracks stated bluntly. "I never screw up a paint job."

"Then why was I called 'Herbie' for three days straight?" the Beetle demanded.

"That was different," Tracks paused. "That was on purpose."

Suddenly, sirens hit their auditory receptors. A crackle over their two-way radios soon followed.

_ "Eye in the sky report, folks! We've got a lone suspect on foot heading your wait, Artemis!" _

The GTO affirmed. "We read you, Blades. What's Groove's situation?"

_ "I'll be heading him off at the pass,"  _ the motorcycle Protectobot stated over the airwaves.  _ "You guys just make sure he doesn't do anything drastic, and don't lose him!" _

"Not a problem!" Cavalier retorted, just as a redheaded kid bolted out from an alleyway, almost smack into Artemis's fender. Swiftly, he lept, running across her hood, then jumped onto Tracks', followed by Bumblebee's roof, and diving into Cavalier's open passenger-side window. A swift click later, he was in her driver's seat, turning over the ignition, and, with a swift shift of gears, zoomed off.

With Cavalier screaming enough obscenities to make a Junkion blush.

"What the hell just happened?" Bumblebee demanded.

"I've got a footprint on my hood!" Tracks whined.

"My question is more like how's he getting away!" Artemis retorted, turning over her own engine. "Blades, Groove, your perp just took off with Cavalier! I don't know how, but lock onto her sig! I'm pursuing! Cav, do you read me?"

_ "GET THIS CARBONSLAGGER OFF MY CONTROLS!" _

"Easy, Cav! I'm right behind you!" the large black automobile shifted into pursuit. "How's he controlling you?"

_ "I DON'T KNOW! MY MOTOR SKILLS'VE BEEN OVERRIDDEN! GET ME OUT OF THIS MESS!" _

"How can he override an Autobot?" Tracks demanded, taking up Artemis's trail. "My poor hood..."

"Talk about weird," Bumblebee agreed. "We'd better inform Rod about this!"

*

"Ease up, buddy," Luke ordered with a growl. "Don't make me shut off your vox too..."

"Who they hell do you think you are?" Cavalier demanded.

"Name's Luke. Luke MacArin. And you are an Autobot. I want to thank you for the challenge. I've never hotwired a Transformer before."

"And you're not supposed to be able to hotwire me! How'd you do it?"

"Trade secret," he stated bluntly. "I can hotwire, hack, and crack anything. Wasn't sure about transformers, but, heh, looks like I did pretty good on my first time. So, what's your name?"

"You're gonna get in real big trouble doing this, not with just the law, but the Autobots as well!"

"You would too if you had nowhere else to go. I had a buddy who pretty much pointed me on something I didn't do. And with my status, if the cops got me, I'm up Shit Creek without a paddle, even though I didn't do anything."

"You hijacked a car."

"I hijacked an Autobot. There is a difference. What's your name?"

She became silent for a couple of seconds.

"Cavalier," she stated bluntly.

"Ah, eloquently put. Anyway, I didn't exactly want to take your friends...the Vette and Goat stick out like sore thumbs, and I wouldn't be able to get too far with the Bug." He downshifted, taking a corner on two wheels, onto an entrance ramp onto the 5, heading out of the city. 

"What are you running for, anyway?"

"Not sure. All I know is that a friend of mine-or so I thought-pointed me out to the police for something he did. The problem is, I'm pretty much wanted anyway for being a street kid to begin with."

"And for grand theft auto..." Her smirk was audible. "Listen, Luke, why don't we just pull over and talk this over, okay? I'm sure we can work this out somehow-"

"-I've been running for most of my life, Cavalier...I don't know any other way." He casually glanced into the rearview mirror, then down at her gauges behind the steering column. Two-fourteen KPM. Great. Stuck in a car from Canada. He did a quick calculation in his head as he weaved in and out of traffic with unnatural agility, combining both his own lightning quick reflexes with the Cybertronian precision machinery. "Not bad handling capabilities...not bad at all."

"Thanks. Come on, Luke. You're in big trouble as it is. And as much as I don't want to do it on the 5, I will hit my manual kill switch."

"You're bluffing," he retorted. "And I can't. Do you know what it's like to live on the streets most of your life, without a family, without a real home, always watching your back and afraid to sleep?"

"I grew up in a group home, if that's any consolation." Her voice lost its edge of cynicalism.

Luke blinked somewhat, almost missing an opening between two Porsches, a blue and white 938 Turbo and a red 924 Baja, in the middle lane of the highway.

"Didn't think Cybertronians grew up in the sense we humans do," he retorted, matching pace with the Bug in front of him as he looked over his shoulder briefly to change lanes. A battered light blue pickup sped suddenly to match speed along side the white and black Autobot.

"You'd be surprised how much similar we are," Cavalier scoffed. "It's-"

"Clever..." the human glared at the pickup, sans-driver. "Your friends are attempting to entrap us."

"No, really?" Her cynic edge returned as sirens wailed in the distance. 

"No, really," he deftly cranked the wheel hard to his right to merge with the travelling lane, only to compensate back to the left as a large auto transport took up the spot.

"I warned you," Cavalier taunted. 

"I'm not out of options yet," Luke gritted his teeth, casting his gaze to the transport just as four cruisers, two of them Autobots, sped alongside the entrapment, lights and sirens blaring as other motorists rushed to escape the interstate.

There was a sudden curse from the transport, and then a surprised cry as the large blue and white tractor trailer swerved dangerously into the guardrail on the far right, barely missing the police cruisers. Toppling off the overpass, Ultra Magnus transformed, clutching at the loosening tarmac.

That black Goat from earlier covered fast ground towards the accident, turning sharply and slamming brakes, clouds of friction smoke billowing from its tires as it careened to a stop in front of the fallen Autobot. Transforming as well, a large black female robot, she snatched Ultra Magnus's flailing hand. With a mighty heave, she attempted to pull the much larger Autobot back up on the overpass, her face contorted in concentration. The ground transport managed to swing a leg onto the overpass, pushing himself up and over, losing his balance momentarily. She caught him deftly, without a word, righted him, and took off again, hitting the ground on four tires as she transformed in mid stride.

Ultra Magnus only blinked, watching the black musclecar he had once called friend so long ago and enemy only recently speed off, then shook his head as he was joined up with Rodimus Prime and Blurr.

"You all right, big guy?" Rodimus questioned. To his companion, he added, "Blurr, head them off at the pass!"

"NotaproblemnosirreeI'monitonitonit!" Blurr saluted, taking up to the chase.

"I've never encountered anything like that before..." Ultra Magnus stated coolly. "It was as though that human...was actually controlling me..."

"What?" The red and yellow leader questioned. "Magnus, are you sure?"

"I lost control long enough for something to...push me..." The larger Autobot shook his head. "I'm still disorientated..."

As the two Autobots conversed of the happenings, they failed to notice the Decepticon behind them, leveling both arm-mounted null rays to their heads, crosshairs locked dead on target.

A short burst of fire-

-the shots were dead on accurate.

But neither Rodimus nor Ultra Magnus fell victim to the phantom blasts. In fact, their only reactions were a slight glance over their shoulders and a collective shrug.

Starscream was not pleased.

Lowering weapons, he narrowed his optics, willing himself forward after the black car.

This death bit was making him very irate. 

But that was a less important matter.

Ultra Magnus himself said a human controlled his actions. A human! A lowly, flesh-ridden human controlled the actions of a Cybertronian. What a disgusting concept!

In almost no time, he had caught up with the Starlight black GTO, gliding effortlessly above her. If she knew he was there, she made no attempt to speak to him as she took up Ultra Magnus's place in the entrapment, freeing up Streetwise to return with the police blockade.

*

"Come on, Luke, just give up...you don't have a chance now!" Cavalier pleaded. "This is only making it harder on yourself!"

"Blockade's coming up!" Cliffjumper shouted, pulling out from pole position to the left, in front of Kup.

"Surprise surprise!" Jazz shouted, slamming on his breaks, brodying to a stop as Artemis and Kup fell back behind Cavalier, matching her speed as well.

"What are you doing, Flyboy?" the black Goat snarled under the roar of her engine, low enough for the older Autobot not to hear.

"At last, you acknowledge me!" the ghost stated with a heartful chortle as he condensed into a solid orb of energy, slamming into and through Cavalier's roof. The white and black Autobot seemed unphased, until the human inside suddenly started, his hands flying to his face. Cavalier swerved dangerously near Kup with a shout as she fought for control. The old soldier bolted forward around the sportscar's tail end, his engine hitting a dangerous whine as the black GTO did the same, only emitting a louder roar, swerving to flank Kup. As he kept tabs on Cavalier, Artemis hit her brakes and downshifted with a tight corner, leaving a black patch in a semicircle in her tires' wake, until she finally stopped, her engine idling.

_ What the hell was that good-for-nothing ghost doing?  _

Whatever it was, the smaller Autobot wasn't liking it too much as she ricocheted off the left guardrail, her front axle smashing inward, catching on the twisted metal and flipping the vehicle onto her roof, spinning slightly from the leftover inertia.

There was a sudden rush as all the Autobots in the area reverted to their robot modes, rushing towards their fallen comrade.

"First Aid, get here, stat!" Streetwise barked into his comm link Artemis and Kup raced up beside him. "Cavalier's been rolled over!"

_ "Acknowledged! I'm on my way!" _

"Lass, can you hear me?" Kup knelt before the whimpering Autobot.

"I...can..." Her voice depicted agony. "Luke?"

There was some muttering from the human. Nothing coherent, at least to the other Autobots.

"Let's get her upright," Artemis suggested, her tone stoic as she nodded towards Kup. On three, they gently lifted Cavalier, turned her over, and set her back on her tires.

"Axle's broken...I can tell you that," Kup shook his head just as a black-haired human in civilian dress raced from one of the police cruisers.

"Detective Nate Lovecraft, 2nd Class," he flashed a badge from his leather jacket. "Anyone hurt?"

"My axle's broken, I'm gonna need some time in the body shop..." Cavalier's tone dropped. "I don't know about Luke..."

"Luke?" Detective Lovecraft seemed unphased by the fact he was conversing with giant sentient robots. "Do you know his full name?"

"Luke MacArin...you gonna do something about him? Something spooked him big time...I don't know what...slot...my slottin' axle...where the slag's First Aid?"

"Cavalier!" Rodimus and Ultra Magnus finally joined in the group.

"What happened? We heard a Primus-awful crash..." Rodimus winced when he caught a glimpse at the sportscar. "Primus, Cav..."

"I'll be all right..." she hissed, then winced painfully as the officer forced open her driver's side door. "Careful, there!"

"Sorry...Zoe! Call in base! We've got our perp!" The human pushed his bangs back, examining the battered youth in the driver’s seat. He had been wearing a seat belt, but it wasn't enough to stop his head from connecting with the steering column. A gash, running the full width of his forehead, bled profusely into his face, drenching his tee-shirt and combat jacket. He was losing consciousness, and fast. "Shit...Zoe! Get over here and bring the kit with you!"

An ambulance approached at breakneck speed, careening to a stop. Just as Detective Lovecraft's partner, a mousy-haired woman with dark blue eyes and also dressed in civvies clothes, along with three uniformed cops, arrived on the scene, gathering around the driver's side of the wounded Autobot. Two more ambulances pulled up to the accident scene, one of them sporting an Autobot symbol above the reversed "AMBULANCE" stencil on its hood. First Aid converted to bot mode, gesturing sternly towards the other Autobots.

"Clear the area! Non-medical personnel step back!" he ordered, his soft-spoken voice edged with authority as the human paramedics surged towards the scene of the accident, gurney at the ready.

"What about Cav?" Rodimus worriedly questioned the Protectobot. First Aid shook his head.

"I can't get to her until they take care of the human first," he stated ruefully, shaking his head. 

"Looks to me that her front axle's snapped," Kup added as they watched the one paramedic place a neck brace around the kid's neck as another tended to the gash on his forehead. "What was that kid thinking?"

"What's bothering me is how that human managed to control Cavalier and Ultra Magnus," Artemis stated coolly.

"And, for that matter, what spooked him?" Streetwise added.

The others failed to notice Artemis's glare to her left.

"Zoe, go with the paramedics! I want to know when this kid's conscious," the black haired human ordered his partner as the paramedics placed the young man on the gurney. "He's got a lot of explaining to do."

"Gotcha, Nate!" Zoe saluted, flashing her badge to the driver of the ambulance en route to the passenger seat. "Zoe Sommers, Detective 3rd class, 16th precinct."

"Morgan, Cates, Chance, start rerouting traffic. If the accident itself doesn't attract attention, the Volton Force will." Detective Lovecraft shot a glance up at Rodimus, shook his head with a snort, then returned his attention to the banged up Cavalier. "Whoever's in charge of your guys, better weed down your numbers to those who need to be here."

"Protectobots, Kup, Ultra Magnus. Artemis, too. The rest of you, head back to base. Have Wreck Gar prep the infirmary," The last order, Rodimus issued to Blurr. "Hopefully, this doesn't take too long."

"Absolutelypositivelynoproblem!" Blurr agreed speedily as he reverted to vehicle mode, quickly taking to the lead of the departing Autobots.

"I need some questions answered," the detective stated as First Aid examined the white and black sports car. "Who's up to telling me what exactly happened? Any witnesses?"

"Yeah, this kid comes barreling out from an alley-way and takes off with Cav," Artemis shrugged, her tone even. "The boys and I took up chase, but the way the dude was driving, and taking into consideration we all have a problem cornering at the speeds he was taking, we lost him, until Groove alerted us to him hitting the 5. "

"That's when we brought in the entrapment maneuver," Kup added. "Just in case Cavalier was able to throw her kill switch, we would be able to prevent keep up with her so not to cause any accidents."

"Ultra Magnus, what happened then?" Rodimus questioned.

"I lost control. It was as though something hacked into my motor relays and bypassed them." Ultra Magnus still seemed a little phased by the notion, still a bit disbelieved something like that could happen.

"It was a good thing we got traffic cleared out in that lane," Detective Lovecraft nodded, his voice betraying no true emotion.

"I took up his position," Artemis continued. "When Streetwise informed us of the road block two kilometers ahead, we then executed a flanking position. Cliffjumper would pull out in front of Kup while Jazz fell behind. Kup and I moved to flank Cavalier, to herd, if need be."

"Then the kid flipped out," Kup added. "Don't know why; one click, he was in control, the next, swerving into the guard rail."

"It's worse than I thought," First Aid then retorted. "Cavalier, it's going to hurt, but I need you to transform."

"Wha..why? What's wrong?" the white and black Autobot demanded. "I ain't gonna go offline or anything, right? Frig, I just got here...I can't go offline! Primus, tell him, Rod, I can't-"

"Ease up, Cav. Just calm down. We'll get you through this, no problem." Rodimus ordered softly. "First Aid, what is it?"

First Aid sighed heavily.

"She won't go offline," he shook his head. "But her entire steering box is collapsed, her CV-joint is snapped in two, her drive shaft has met a similar fate...and her front axle is broken."

"Shit," Cavalier cursed.

"Two weeks on Earth and she's already picking up the lingo," Artemis muttered.

"So what does this mean?" Rodimus demanded.

"As much as I entrust the skills of the Junkions, we should replace the fractured pieces with new parts. Until then..."

"My vehicle mode's useless," Cavalier grumbled painfully, finishing First Aid's train of thought.

"Well, in a nutshell..." the medic agreed reluctantly.

"Shit," the white and black Autobot swore again.

"Can you transform?" Rodimus asked sincerely.

"I'll try..." Her form twisted somewhat, then, with a loud grinding that made all the Autobots wince, her front end snapped up at an awkward angle as a few sparks flew from her chest cavity. Fully transformed, she then hit the ground with her knee, clutching her chest with her right hand. Her left hung limply at her side. "Slottin' carbon-slaggin' sunovaBITCH! That HURT!"

"Let's get back to base, then," the yellow and red leader nodded. "The sooner we do, the sooner we can get you patched up, Cav."

"Sounds like a plan," she grumbled, grimacing in agony as she took a step. "Dammit."

"Hold up there, buddy," Detective Lovecraft held up his hand. "What we've got here is a key witness, not to mention an accessory to resisting arrest."

"And what we have here is a wounded Autobot who needs medical attention as soon as possible," Artemis snarled, glaring daggers down at the black-haired human. "This isn't the time nor the place to discuss this."

"Artemis's right," Rodimus nodded. "Under normal circumstances, we would comply, Detective. But seeing that these aren't normal circumstances..." Glancing towards Kup, he then added, "if you wish to question her and us further, then you are more than welcome to follow us back to Autobot City."

Detective Lovecraft shook his head with a grumble.

"Fuckin' E.D.C. regs..." he muttered under his breath. Aloud, he retorted, "I've got to fill out the paperwork at the precinct, but be expecting a visitor tomorrow for a little Q & A. I don't know about you, but I aim to get to the bottom of this."

"The same goes for us," Kup interjected. "Whatever that kid did to Cavalier and Ultra Magnus, it's not good news."

"Depending on your point of view, that is," a malicious hiss breathed past Artemis's auditory sensor. "He could see me, Arty."

Her optics narrowed dangerously, though not focused on anything in particular.

"You don't need to say anything...I know you're trying to prove to the Autobots you're sane...I shall take my leave of you...for the moment, at least. This flesh creature interests me. I covet more information."

There was a brief stir of air next to her face, then Starscream's presence was gone.

Peace, at least for another couple of megacycles, she thought dryly.

She watched sourly as Streetwise and Hotspot loaded up the wounded Autobot onto Ultra Magnus's trailer, Cavalier continuing her painful griping.

Knowing the situation at hand, Starscream was the one at fault here. Had he not interfered, Cavalier, and for that matter, the human, would not have been hurt. Simple as that. However, it didn't matter who the blame was put on at the moment, least of all a dead Air Commander whom only Artemis and apparently now the human could see.

What a strange day indeed, she concluded, transforming into her vehicular mode and bringing up the rear of the group as they headed east, back towards base.

And something told her things were about to become even stranger.


	2. Run, Runaway!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cybertron's Moonbase is under attack by a group of rogue Decepticons called the Vengeance Posse, led by a fanatical follower of Starscream's; their mission is to hunt down the betrayer of their exalted leader. Except they get the wrong person...
> 
> Meanwhile, an intergalactic agent of fortune is investigating a lead that brings her back to her homeworld, reuniting with a partner in crime.

Iacon

Cybertron

_ "'I like black and white, dreaming black and white, you like black and white, run runaway! See chameleon, lying there, in the sun, all things to everyone, run runaway!'" _

The smaller purple and gold Autobot watched the maroon and navy medic running in circles as he cleaned up the lab. She tended to do things a little more methodically when she picked up after a service; her companion, like now, prefered a song and dance act.

"Y'know, mate, things would probably get done faster if you kept your mind on the task at hand and not on Terran Retro," she stated.

"And this is why, me gal, that ye's the assistant," he tweaked her nose playfully. "For yer information, I'se singing the GBS version. So sue me, I'se in a good mood."

"Seriously, Zodiac, how can you be in such a great mood all the time?"

"Positive thinking!" The medic gave the medlab a quick scan to reassure that everything was in fact in place. "Ye should try it sometime, Brits, me gal."

Brits shook her head with a smirk.

"You're really part Junkion, aren't you?"

"Nope; colony Autobot."

"Which one, Junk?"

"Now ye's gettin' personal, me gal," Zodiac waved a finger at her. He was about to retort further when a buzz on the intercom interrupted his mock-chide. "Zodiac here."

_ "Hey, Zodiac."  _ A light blue Autobot blinked on screen, his optics in a state of worry, a rare expression for him.

"What's wrong, Ranger?" Zodiac's mood also darkened.

_ "Word from Autobot City. There's been an accident. Cavalier's-" _

"Oh, good mother of Primus-" Zodiac whimpered. "Brits, me kitbag, quick-"

"What happened, bloke?" Brits demanded.

_ "She's gonna be all right...but First Aid has requested that you bring some supplies Earthside and assist him in the repairs." _

"What does she need, me son? Quick, for the love of Primus..."

_ "Er... _ " Ranger glanced down at something, probably a hand-written note he scrawled out while taking the message.  _ "Axle, drive shaft, steering box, CV joint-slot, she really did take a beating...oh, and a case of energon lager." _

"That's not exactly standard repair equipment," Brits stated coolly.

_ "Cav was screaming for it in the background...can't ignore her, you know that. _ "

"Sounds like a plan, me son. What's the transport detail?"

_ "Skyfire's gonna take you Earthside." _

"Have ye told Stormy yet?" 

_ "She's waiting with Skyfire." _

"Sweet love of Primus, Cav's Earthside not even twenty solar cycles and she's already causing enough trouble to make me sweat oil..." Zodiac snatched his kitbag from Brits and slung it over his shoulder. "Britz, me gal, call down to the supply storage and relay the order. I'se on me way to pick it up. Ye's in charge 'till I'se gets back, got it?"

"Your lab's in good hands," the purple and gold femme nodded. "Give Cav my best."

"Thanks, me gal," he replied with a slight but worried smile before he bolted out of the lab.

Brits immediately flipped on the intercom once more.

"Brits to Packrat."

There was loud static as the screen came into focus, revealing a blue and brown rattish looking bot in storage surroundings.

_ "Talk to me, beautiful. Whatcha need, besides a real man?" _

"In your dreams. We need some new parts. Zodiac's on his way to pick them up. Cavalier's been damaged heavily in the front end. We're gonna need pretty much a new front end assembly."

_ "Everything save the engine. Gotcha. Me and Torque will have 'em ready by the time Bones gets here. Billing purposes, who's this goin' to?" _

"Seeing that the order came from First Aid, I would say our fearless leader," she stated coolly.

_ "Er...right. Got it. Packrat out." _

_ * _

To Skyfire, the Autobot standing ten paces away from him was a dead-on Seeker. There was no way in the Pit she could have been built as an Autobot. That was a strictly Decepticon jet design; the Autobot jets she commanded in Sky Patrol were sleeker, built more for speed and interception than actual fire power.

He had said nothing to her yet; truthfully, he didn't want to. She said she was going because her friend needed her; last time someone said that to Skyfire, he ended up a couple of megacycles later heavily stunned by null rays for defending a couple of humans.

If it looked like a Seeker and walked like a Seeker, then chances are, it was a Seeker.

But then again, he was a Decepticon before. Perhaps this one had a similar past, one that brought her to the side of good and light.

"Stormrave!" Zodiac rushed out towards her suddenly, jarring Skyfire out of his train of thought. "Ye heard, me gal?"

"Yeah! Get your Junkion-lovin' ass in gear!" the red and grey jet ordered. "As soon as I find out who did this to Cav, I'm gonna-"

"Ease up, hot-head!" Zodiac ordered. "I'se gotta gets the parts from Supply-"

"Special delivery, coming through!" The nasally whine of Packrat suddenly called out as he careened around a corner at a dangerous speed, the back of his vehicle form weighed down by large boxes. The light blue and green sports car tailing him drifted to a stop and transformed, rushing towards the three Autobots waiting.

"Rush delivery, while you wait!" Packrat's companion chirped as he began unloading the cargo. "So Cav got herself a little trouble, eh? Brits' said she got her entire front assembly totalled. She run into a wall again or what?"

"Not funny, Torque," Stormrave chided, her fists clenched.

"We don't know what happened yet," Zodiac retorted, placing a hand gently on the Sky Patrol commander's wrist. "That's why we're going Earthside."

"Ain't the Junkions down there?" Packrat questioned. "They'd fix her up pretty damn good, I'd imagine."

"Cav's fussy," the medic smirked, though worry still lined his face. "Also, we'se got to replace parts, not just repair them. We'se prolly lookin’ at a total reconstruction. So if ye could be so kind as to step up the pace-"

"Relax, Bones! I'm familiar with front end collisions!" Packrat, once he was relieved of the load, returning to bot mode with a shrug as he aided Torque with the transfer to Skyfire's cargo hold. "Hell, I had a couple of them in my life, to boot. If I survive them, she can. You should know better than me, you're the medic."

"Just load the slag," Stormrave commanded.

"Yes, ma'am!" The wiry Autobot saluted, a little melodramatically. "Nope, I'm not gonna be the one who pisses off the Air Commander, no way!"

Zodiac could have sworn the fuming red and grey jet's optics flashed red as she stepped forward, her hand clenched and reaching for the smaller Autobot's throat.

"Ease off, me gal, he's only tryin' to get you worked up," he warned.

"Oh, I'm worked up, all right..." she snarled.

Torque then decided it was best to change the subject, and fast.

"Hey, why are you being all chummy to each other all of a sudden?" He questioned with a broad smile.

Both Zodiac and Stormrave stared at Packrat's companion, his arms crossed over his chest in a matter-of-factly stance.

"Oh, now why would I want to be chums with this fly-gal hothead?"

"I've got better things to do than to even consider hanging out with Guppy-bot here!"

"Thought so," Torque smirked.

"Okay, load's packed and secure, just need one little thing from Bones," Packrat dusted off his hands and produced a clipboard and stylus. "For records, y'know...gotta make the Council happy."

Torque made a circle in the air with his index finger and rolled his optics as Zodiac complied.

"Rules and regulations. The wonders that make our great society," he commented as Zodiac returned the clipboard to Packrat.

"Don't knock it, bro. That great society is signing our paychecks."

"Thanks, me sons," Zodiac nodded. "This is greatly appreciated. Okay, Stormy, Skyfire, let's get to Earth. I'se just hearin' Cav now bitchin' and moanin' 'bout how long we took..."

"We forgot the beer," Stormrave pointed out.

"Slag, I knew we'se forgetin' somethin'."

"I don't think now is a good time to be discussing such matters," Skyfire stated mildly.

"Either way, Cav's gonna bitch," Stormrave retorted as they boarded the transport.

"Skyfire to Cybertron Command," the red and white Autobot beckoned through the comm systems. "We request clearance to take off."

_ "Skyfire, this is Chromia of Cybertron Command. You have been cleared for warpgate jump, and Autobot City has been notified of your departure. _ "

"Thank you, Chromia," the transport jet prepped up his engines, taxiing the runway for a half-kilometer before increasing throttle. Engines at full power, Skyfire pulled his nose up and climbed high through the thin Cybertronian atmosphere and into the starry beyond.

*

Moonbase 1   
Orbiting Cybertron

Moonracer, her reflection in the tinted glass of the window, stared out into space, watching as Skyfire streaked past, towards the gold warpgate, towards Earth.

"Boring..." she sighed, propping her elbows on the console and resting her chin on her hands. "Nothing exciting ever happens anymore."

"I call it a blessing," Her companion, Firestar, retorted from the workstation next to her. "At least now we can relax somewhat."

"Oh, I'm relaxed all right." The green femme's index finger twitched somewhat against her temple. "I'm so relaxed right now, I could just spit. The Great War may be over, but something tells me there's gonna be trouble soon. I know it."

"You're being paranoid, Moonracer," Firestar chuckled.

"I'm being cautious."

"Suit yourself," the red Autobot shrugged, observing the transport jet engulfed by the golden glow of the warpgate tesseract. "Wonder what it's like on Earth. The others seem to like it."

"Not for me, thanks. I like it right here on the planet we fought for."

"I thought you were just complaining how there was nothing to do on Cybertron."

"There isn't!" Moonracer moaned, her optics narrowed, defeated.

A light suddenly blinked in front of her nose. She stared at it for a couple of clicks, registering what it was.

"Slag! Proximity sensor!" The green Autobot cried out, bolting upright as she studied her monitor. "I'm not picking up anything!"

"Same here...possibly some debris tripped one off?"

"After what happened a few solar cycles ago, I don't think we should take any chances." Moonracer jabbed the comm button. "Elita-One, Moonracer here. I think we've got incoming!"

_ "I'll be right up. Elita-One, out." _

"I don't like the way my hackles are raised about this one, either, Moonracer," Firestar admitted. "Autoguns, online! Shields up!"

"I'm picking up Decepticon signatures!" Moonracer exclaimed, optics widening. "Four in all...Seeker designates?"

"Now there's a dying breed," Firestar retorted. "I didn't think there were that many Seekers in existence anymore."

"Keep shields up," their leader, a pink and grey femme with penetrating optics and a smooth voice, ordered from behind them. "Firestar, hail them."

"This is Cybertron Moonbase to incoming Decepticons. Disengage and fall back, or we will open fire."

There was an uneasy pause as Moonracer's fingers lay in wait upon the keys to command the laser turrets.

"This is Cybertron Moonbase to incoming Decepticons," Firestar repeated. "Disengage-"

_ "DISENGAGE THIS, AUTOBOT PANSIES!"  _ A loud shout with a prominent twang echoed through the comm system, followed by maniacal laughter, as laser fire strafed the base, a fraction quicker than the Autobot turrets could recharge and fire.

"All personnel prepare for engagement!" Elita-One barked into the intercom. To Moonracer, she added, "Contact Cybertron Hub and inform them of the situation! Firestar, you're with me."

"Iacon Defense, this is Moonbase 1! We have Decepticon activity!" the green femme hailed as Elita-One and Firestar exuented.

_ "We hear you, Moonracer! Do you require backup?"  _ Chromia demanded.

"We'll take some aerial backup up here!"

_ "Consider it done! We're sending Sky Patrol up! Cybertron Defense, out!" _

"Computer, lock onto Decepticon sigs and fire!" Moonracer then ordered the system.

_ "Compliance. _ "

"Oh, and I'm just gonna let the others have all the fun," she scoffed, unsheathing her own laser and rushing out of the base, running head-on into another Autobot, a large sky blue male at least two heads taller than her.

"Easy, there, beautiful!" he chuckled. "Elita told me we're on control room duty until those Decepti-goons are subdued."

"Slaggit!" Moonracer growled, pivoting sharply on her heel and stormed back to the control room. "Of all the Autobots on base, why you?"

"Because we make a cute couple?"

"Oh, please, Apollo. Decepticons are attacking, and you're here looking for a date. You're pathetic."

"Just trying to be friendly, that's all..."

"Pol, we don't have time for your games!" Moonracer hopped back into her seat and brought up a targeting screen. "Now you either man the turret, or you stay out of the way!"

"Okay, okay!" Apollo held his hands up in defense as he took Firestar's seat, bringing up another turret display. "My, aren't we a little touchy!"

"Obviously you're not concerned about the Decepticons attacking the base."

"Hey, there's only four of them," Apollo winked. "How much damage could they possibly do?"

*

_ Dangerous drunk, dangerous sober,  _ the orange Seeker thought as she let rained a volley of laser fire upon the gathering Autobots in the parade grounds of the base.

"That's right!" the black and red leader shot past her companion. "Flush 'em out! Let's show these pathetic weaklings what happens when they take our home! Airstrike, Foxfire, clusterbomb 'em! Sidewinder, you're with me! Vengeance Posse, move out!"

A collective whoop from the two males tailing sounded as they split into formation, the orange femme and green male banked sharply, the two others pulling up into an invert.

"We's gonna vape 'em, Sonyx? Please, tell me we's gonna vape 'em!" the leader's partner whined.

"All in good time, Sidewinder; in the meanwhile, fire at will! I'm taking out the turrets!"

"Yeehah!" Sidewinder pitched downward, transforming into his robot mode and hitting the ground running, firing his lasers at anything with an Autobot symbol, including inanimate objects.

The one called Sonyx rolled left, towards the command tower. Her missiles cycled, taking a couple of hits from the laser turrets to her wings. With a furious shout, she touched off two laser-guided missiles tracked onto the turrets, shifting into robot mode without slowing down, flanking both projectiles. Both missiles found home; the turrets exploded in a fiery rain of shrapnel and plasma. Through the smoke and greenish flame, the black and red Decepticon slammed through the glass of the control hub, shattering shards around her as her foot connected sharply with Moonracer's chin.

"I claim this base in the name of the Decepticons!" Sonyx shouted, aiming her laser at the recovering femme.

"Moonracer!" Apollo shot forward, drawing his own weapon and leveling it at the Seeker. "Come on, Decepticon, why don't you pick on someone-"

The arm swung around, blasting a powerful charge of null ray square in the Autobot's chest.

"You talk too much," she snarled, only to be on the receiving end of a swift kick from the green femme.

"Give it up, Decepticon; you're grossly outnumbered!" Moonracer winced, landing another blow to her midsection, shattering the Seeker's canopy.

"Outnumbered, but never outwitted!" Sonyx shouted, snapping her arm around and slamming her elbow into Moonracer's temple. The Autobot collapsed, attempting to compensate, as the Decepticon's attention returned to the light blue male. "You..."

Apollo shook his head, fighting the effects of the null ray, taking a nanoclick to realise that Sonyx was addressing him. She stood over him, her crimson optics glaring down angrily.

"I've seen you before," she growled. "Or I've seen someone like you..." Swiftly, she snatched his arm, yanking him upward, examining his shoulder design, the rounded chrome top-over-bottom style headlights coming to a point. "Yes...different colouration...but the same overall form of my personal nemesis..." Her other hand snatched at his neck. "Where is Artemis?"

Apollo's optics suddenly widened, then quickly narrowed angrily. "Learned her lesson from hanging around the likes of you, no doubt!"

"Where is she?" Sonyx pressed the barrel of her laser into the Autobot's temple as the soprano whine of Autobot jets roared overhead.

_ "Sonyx, they brought in Sky Patrol!" _ Sidewinder's voice cried over her comm.

_ "We no longer have an advantage! We should retreat!" _ Foxfire added.

"Cowards!" Sonyx shrieked. "Run back to base, cowards! Run and prove to Galvatron that we are weak!"

_ "Sounds good to me. Airstrike out." _

"Fools!"

Apollo chuckled. "I'll have to admit, that was one thing Sis wasn't, and that was a coward," he hissed.

"'Sis,' eh?" Sonyx jabbed him sharply. "I was right; you do talk too much-"

Blasts from Autobot weapons grazed across her flank. She snarled, twisting at the waist to witness Firestar and Elita-One leading four other Autobots into the room, firing warning shots.

"Step away from him, Decepticon," the pink leader ordered. "Or face the direst of consequences."

"If you're gonna shoot, shoot to kill!" Sonyx screeched, jumping back and touching off her propulsion units as she returned shots. Blindly, she flew out of the broken pane she had entered and transformed back to jet mode, streaking upward, back into the night sky.

"Firestar, check on Moonracer! Sunsnare, have Sky Patrol sweep the area for any more Decepticons." Elita-One sheathed her pistol and knelt next to the phased blue male. "Apollo, are you all right?"

"I'll manage..." Apollo nodded somewhat, wincing. "Still trying to shake off the effects of her null ray." His expression suddenly turned to panic. "Elita, she was looking for Artemis!"

"Probably looking to ace her for defecting, no doubt," Firestar retorted.

"I heard her..." Moonracer stood with the aid of her old friend and the slight Sky Patrol femme. "Sonyx, her name was...I heard her call Art her 'personal nemesis.' I don't think she's one of Galvatron's..."

"Does it matter what kind of Decepticon marked my sis?" Apollo stood sluggishly. "They took her once from us; I'm not gonna let them take her again!"

"Agreed," Elita-One nodded, turning to regard Moonracer. "Radio both Cybertron command and Autobot City of what happened."

"Will do!" the green Autobot femme saluted as she stood gingerly with Firestar's help.

"Apollo, when you're up to it, I need you to find out all the information you can on this Vengeance Posse. If we are indeed dealing with another Decepticon splinter cell, we need to know details."

The light blue male snorted.

"Does it matter what cell? All Decepticons are the same."

"They don't think the same," Firestar stated bluntly. "Even Galvatron thinks differently than he did as Megatron."

"Needless to say, the four of them managed to do this much damage to our base, with at least six Autobots in the infirmary," Elita-One added. "We need to be more prepared. We may have Cybertron back, but the threat of Decepticon attack is still apparent, as proven by this so-called Vengeance Posse."

"Three of them," Firestar corrected. "We have one of them in custody right now, awaiting questioning."

"Something tells me this is more than a simple raid," Elita shook her head. "We're going to need some first party interrogation."

***

Portland Area General Health Center   
Portland, Oregon   
Earth

Luke opened his eyes somewhat, wincing at the blinding sunlight streaming through the open curtains. With a curse, he brought his hand to his head, only to touch clean bandages.

What had happened? He couldn't remember!

He tried to recall the last thing he did...bring soup to Mrs. Gorden...Archie fingering him out to the cops, then-

-nothing. Waking up here with a dull headache.

"Hello?" he called out. "Anyone there?"

His voice echoing off the sterile off-white walls of the room eerily was the only reply.

"Shit..." he leaned back into the pillows, staring at the ceiling. "What the hell happened?"

"An accident," a disembodied voice answered matter-of-factly, an unearthly tone with an electronic reverb underlying like fingernails dragged against a chalk-board. "You and the Autobot you hijacked were wounded, though I believe she's worse off than you."

"Who's there?" Luke demanded, bolting into a sitting position, groaning at the sudden wave of nausea overwhelming him.

"Interesting you should ask that, being such that humans shouldn't be able to hear me." A bright speck of light appeared at the foot of the hospital bed, bobbing ever-so-slightly. "In fact, most of my own race cannot either. Who I am isn't what is relevant right now, human, but to humour you...I am Air Commander Starscream of the Decepticon Battle Fleet."

"But you're-"

"-Dead? How perspective you are. Yes, I am, how shall you say, corporeally challenged. But that's not the fact of the matter. How can you hear me?"

"I...I don't know...I just can..." Luke's breath came in shallow gasps. "Cav...is Cavalier all right?"

"Frankly, I don't really care. What I do, however, is how you were able to control her and Ultra Magnus in the manner that you did."

"Why should I tell you anything? Last I heard, you were one of the bad guys."

"Bad guys, good guys, it's all on your point of view. How did you control them? I will not ask you again, and my patience is running thin."

"And what are you going to do to me if I don't? Haunt me? You spooked me once, Mister Air Commander. You're not gonna do it again."

The ball of light truly seemed agitated as it zoomed towards Luke, halting suddenly mere millimeters from his face.

"You DARE mock me?" the spectre screeched, causing the human to wince.

"I don't know, okay? I just do it. I've always been able to do it, okay? Stop yelling at me!" Luke swatted angrily at the orb. "Leave me alone! Why don't you go back to that black musclecar you were hovering around earlier. She doesn't seem to mind your company." He turned to his side, burying his head into the pillow. "Don't know how, though. I'm surprised you managed to stay alive as long as you did."

"You insult me, human. I have destroyed other sentients for less than that."

"Idle threats. You can't do anything to me. Go away."

There was a strange silence. For the most part of it, Luke truly believed the ghost had finally left.

"Listen...er...Luke..." His visitor's tone dropped, less hysterical, more manipulative. "From what I understand, you are in some serious trouble with human law. I may be able to clear your name...but only if you do a service for me."

"I could clear myself if I wanted too...but I try to be an honest kid. Not interested."

"Not interested in what?"

The sudden interruption of the female voice jarred Luke's consciousness. He turned slowly to face the mousy-haired human leaning up against the door jamb, staring down at his shocked expression. Though she wore a denim jacket over worn jeans and a Hard Rock Cafe New York tee-shirt, a PD badge peaked under the jacket from her belt.

"Talkin' to myself," he slurred somewhat, rolling back to his side, away from the cop.

"That's nice. Well, if you're talking to yourself, I'm guessing you're up to talking to me. Zoe Sommers, detective, 3rd Class. You're in a lot of trouble, mister, not only with the police, but with EDC. Normally, I would have to read you Miranda, but seeing that you broke EDC regs as well with the hijacking and ultimately kidnapping of an extra-terrestrial sentient, it's better to talk than to remain silent."

"What exactly did Archie pin me for?" he then questioned.

"Trafficking crack cocaine. We've run your clothing and belongings for any traces of drugs, as well as questioned your peers in Hell's Pantry. We arrested Archie Stevens on account of possession and intent to sell class A narcotics. You are cleared of those charges. But evading police, hijacking and kidnapping, and endangerment of another sentient...we also found nearly two-hundred dollars in your knapsack, as well as a palm-puter and datajacks...hacking equipment. A little pricey to be in the possession of a homeless kid. You're in trouble, Mr. MacArin. I want some answers in a hurry."

"My comp and my jacks are for business," he whimpered. "I try making an honest living sending secured files from one firm to another. As far as I know, the method I was using was perfectly legal. I am a self-taught computer programmer...I learned on old 286s and Mac Classics in the basement of the public library when I was six and went from there. But no one wants to hire anyone permanently some kid from the slums."

"Cute story. Mind if I contact some of your 'clients?'"

"Go right ahead. There's a contact list on my comp. I use public phone lines to contact, and am authorised to use company accounts for their business purposes only."

"Sounds like you've been down this avenue before," Detective Sommers crossed her arms over her chest.

"I blame everything on the fact that I had no parental supervision after the first five years of my life."

"Oh, a smart mouth," the brown-haired woman pushed a lock out of her face, her dark eyes narrowing. "That excuse might have worked for you three years ago, Mister MacArin. But you're an adult, and will be tried as an adult. Now, there must be a reason why you ran, rather than face the music if you were indeed clean."

"You don't differentiate between one homeless person from another," he grumbled. "It wouldn't matter if it was Archie or me or one of the other people in the Pantry...as long as at least one of us took the fall. I ran because, guilty or innocent, I was going down anyway. And I'm sorry for dragging Cavalier into this mess...had I known she was Autobot before hotwiring her, I wouldn't have done it..."

"Hindsight's always 20/20, kid," Detective Sommers retorted. "As soon as the doctors give you an okay to be moved, you're coming down to the station for more questioning."

"Fine by me. Just tell me one more thing...is Jackie all right?"

"Jackie?"

"Archie's girlfriend."

"She's been brought in as an accomplice. She's being held at a woman's facility until she's due. The child will probably be put up for adoption, and she'll be heading to Oregon State Correction for five years."

"Figured such," Luke sighed. "At least the kid's gonna have a better chance."

"Yeah, you could say that. Get some rest, kid. You're gonna have a long couple of days after you pull through this."

Luke did not respond as the detective exited the room, exchanging some indistinct words with two guards outside.

"Something's going to happen," he whispered to more himself than anyone else. "I know it."

"I do not understand human law," the ghost piped up, almost seemingly genuinely curious. "Why are they delaying punishment?"

"Because they have to go to trial, present evidence, witnesses, so they know it was the right person...and they'll probably try getting me on trafficking, and knowing my luck, I'm gonna be appointed a lawyer who wouldn't know Fifth Amendment Double Jeopardy from a category on the game show. Why would you care?"

"Curious, that's all. Such a primitive race, you humans. Even the Autobots have swifter justice procedures."

"Must be nice. Me? I'm gonna end up in some lock-up, forgotten."

"A waste of your talents."

"And why would you be so concerned over a primitive human, Mr. Air Commander?"

"Let us just say that I too sense a wind of...opportunity... Perhaps we could reach a mutual deal ... ?"

"Maybe after I figure out a way to get my ass legally out of trouble." With a grumble, he pulled the sheet over his chin. "And find a way to make it up to Cav..."

The spectre bobbed a couple of times.

"Feh. Sentiment," he scoffed, before dispersing.

***

10 miles outside Portland   
Off Interstate 5

Dust kicked up from behind orange and black Plymouth Roadrunner as it roared over the deserted highway at ninety miles per hour.

Yep...it was good to be home, the female thought, running a hand through her wavy blond hair, teased at the top in a fashion that was twenty years out of date.

Not that she cared.

Deftly, she switched tapes in her radio, replacing Rob Zombie with something a little more British. A stereophonic test pattern sounded-you don't hear those much these days, she thought with a smirk-and immediately, "Exciter" by Judas Priest launched off in a powerful drum beat, vibrating the leather interior of the classic car in combination to the suped-up engine underneath the hood.

She had been off-world far too long. So what it wasn't truly her Earth? At least she had a musclecar, her music, and her sense of freedom from most responsibilities she had back-

Christ. It was so long ago. Her former life seemed like a faded dream. She had been a CEO for a scientific corporation based in New York City during the late 21st century, partners with her husband-Dan? Don? Why couldn't she remember? They had developed a temporal observation window-a time slip-which one day backfired, sending her through not only time, but space as well, landing her in an alternate earth.

She remembered the date. 1707. Scotland. Not a good year for her beloved homeland, but she picked up a sword and shield and faced the inevitable.

The English saw her as a witch that refused to die. Indeed she wasn't going to grant them the satisfaction.

Must have had to do with the Sidhe side of her family.

Shaking the thought from her head, she downshifted, noting the stop light ahead.

Life's full of traffic lights, she chuckled out loud as she rolled to the white line. Looking in her rear view mirror, she noted she had incoming.

A large black car, the body style was a couple years older than her Roadrunner and very Pontiac. Could have been a LeMans or Tempest, perhaps a Goat. She couldn't tell from the distance.

She stared straight ahead, waiting for the light to change. It was only her and the Pontiac on the road.

"Fuckin' sensors must be messed up," she grumbled, noticing a flashing light on her dash. She pushed a toggle-switch, revealing a screen just under her radio. A digital readout announced an uplink being established. Time to connection, three minutes.

"Enough time," she smirked as the other car-definitely a hardtop GTO, minus the hood tach-pulled up next to her, idling. Suddenly, it's engine roared out twice.

A challenge.

"Yep. Plenty of time." She revved up the Roadrunner's engine twice-accepting-and turned down the radio on her way to the shift stick. Her eyes focused on the light, she moved her foot from the brake to the gas, keeping her left on the clutch. Over in the other car, she heard the telltale beginning rift of Metallica's "I Disappear."

"Christ, if you're gonna drag to Metallica, you play 'Motorbreath,'" she grumbled, just as the light switched to green.

Popping the clutch as she shifted into first, her Roadrunner screamed bestially, lifting the front end as it poured friction smoke from its super-wide tires. The Goat did a similar feat as both cars fishtailed for control, leaving blackened tarmac in their wake.

Neck and neck, both cars simultaneously shifted into second, and so on, until the Goat gave an extra burst of gas, the front end lurching upward slightly as it pulled out in front.

"Oh, you little bitch," the human shook her head, flipping up a switch cover and hitting the nitrus pack. "You're crafty, but I'm a bit nastier."

The Mopar-built musclecar shot forward, the speedometer needle shaking around a buck-twenty.

Again, the GTO pulled up closer and closer to the nose.

"Bitch!" she cursed as her pack ran dry, the needle sinking around ninety, just as the screen flashed once more. With another sour curse, the woman downshifted once more, pulling off to the side of the road and turned on her hazards. "Son of a BITCH!"

The Goat too slowed down, veering into the breakdown lane. Its reverse lights snapped on, slowly bridging the gap between the two cars.

"Next time, I swear," she cursed, pressing a touchpad on her console above her e-brake. "What's up, Drez?"

The screen blinked, revealing a digital image of a large, lupine creature with a scar running the longitude of his peppered-grey face.

_ "Hey, Minnie. We've got a couple of situations in your neck of the woods we need you to handle." _

"Oh, wonderful," she rolled her eyes. "And on my vacation, too."

_ "Nice try. You work for the Guild, your vacations' are on company time." _

"Don't need to remind me, Drez."

Out of the corner of her eye, Minnie noticed the Goat shift into a tall female robot, though seemed totally unphased by the transformation. Instead, she returned her attention to the lupine.

"So what's the situations?"

_ "First one: we got a tip from two Nebulon headhunters that they're looking for a human on Earth. They were looking for hiring out; I told them I had one of my employees down there already, and I would get as much information as possible. I'm downloading the stuff I do have on this kid; it's up to you to get what else you need. I don't like dealing with Nebulons, Minnie. Them and Rokkans. If they want this human so bad, we should get a hold of him before they do." _

"Piece of cake," Minnie agreed, turning on the splitscreen so she could watch the download's progress. "What's the other?"

_ "You find Art yet?" _

The woman threw her head back and laughed.

"The bitch just outdragged my ass!" she chuckled.

"Who're you calling a bitch?" A large, gunmetal finger poked Minnie in the back of her head through the open driver's side window. "You know damn well those nitrus packs are only good for a couple of clicks." The black Transformer kneeled down to peer into the car. "Hey, Drez! Long time no see, old wolf!"

_ "Artemis, thank the Howl you're all right!"  _ Drez's maw broke into a wide grin.  _ "We were afraid Galvatron got you. Ritterkruez let Minnie know you were all right, but we wanted to make certain. Whatever you do, girl, watch your back. Scourge has been in here like clockwork looking for you." _

"Scourge?" The black femme grimaced. "What the hell does he want?"

"Probably just keeping tabs on you for Galvatron," Minnie stated bluntly.

_ "Anyway, Minnie, you have your assignment. Artemis, it's good to know you're still functioning. Whenever you're ready to come back to us, I've got some new clients just dying to meet you." _

"Thanks, Drez, but I'm staying low for a while. I'll let Minnie know where I've been hiding out, though, if you need me."

_ "You know me, sweetheart...ol' Drez takes care of his girls. Listen, I gotta go yell at the busboy. Drez out." _

The screen blipped off.

"Your assignment?" Artemis then asked the human.

"Yeah. Ever heard of the Nebulons?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Nasty blokes. Planet's been in a civil war for eons. And apparently, they've marked a human as a target. Funny...I never thought them to give humans a second glance." Minnie checked her time. "I'm gonna need to get to a mainframe to do more research."

"Follow me," Artemis stepped back, falling back into her vehicle mode and turning over the engine.

"I tend to do that a lot, now, don't I, Arty?" Minnie laughed, shifting out of nuetral and rolling after the black Goat.

_"Don't call me Arty,"_ the Transformer's voice crackled over the CB in the Roadrunner.

"Sorry..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Ryder!" Black snapped her fingers. "She's a constant!"  
>  "Multidimensional agents tend to be. I only know of her from your iteration, so I'm afraid I cannot help much here."  
> "But she is!" Tapping her cheek, Black narrowed her optics. "Would she have information on the titans, though? I don't think she ever encountered them with me. We never brought anyone else except...well, it was usually Vey and I on those expeditions. But she must have some sort of connection with her own iterations."  
> Mac allowed Black to ramble through her thoughts, smiling and nodding.  
> Black's shoulders slumped. "The downside is that Brash doesn't know what to ask. That's the problem."  
> "And that's," the bartender washed her mug and placed it back in front of her, "is why this is about observation, not interacting."_


	3. With Friends like Skyfire...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream's machinations click into place as Skyfire is unknowingly dragged into the gears.

Autobot City   
Communications Tower

Cavalier stared out towards the west through the three-sixty view of the communications tower with a hefty sigh. She had pretty much been blaring a song on every piece of CD, vinyl, DAT, or cassette she could get her fingers on. At that moment, she had Bloodhound Gang's "The Inevitable Return of the Great White Dope" cranking on the internal speakers. Her left arm hung in a sling close to her chest, useless.

"How're you feeling?" Rewind questioned, attempting to strike up conversation. Blaster had vacated for a bit for a powwow down in the War Room; he and Eject were keeping Cavalier company while she moped.

"I feel like slag warmed over," she grumbled, taking the CD out and placing it back into its case. "Got any Styx?"

"Styx?" Eject interjected.

"Yeah. I'm in the mood for  _ Kilroy Was Here _ ."

"You went from  _ Hurray For Boobies  _ to  _ Kilroy Was Here _ . And I thought Blaster was bad," Rewind chuckled, handing her the vinyl record. "Did you know that we have almost every genre of Terran music up here, from tribal beat to speed metal-"

"There's a difference?" Eject retorted, watching intently the playoffs between the Boston Red Sox and the New York Yankees.

"Gah...I don't feel like Styx anymore...Farflung...I wanna listen to Farflung."

"A little moody when you're cranky?" Eject questioned.

"Oh, shut up. I'd curse you, but the Sox cursed enough to torture you as it is."

"Striking a little below the belt, Cav."

"I know I am. Where the hell's Farflung?"

_ "Autobot City, this is Skyfire, requesting clearance to land, over." _

"It's about friggin' time!" Cav whooped, switching on the comm link. "Hey, Ultra Magnus, Skyfire's coming in requesting clearance to land!"

_ "Request granted. Inform him Wreck-Gar and First Aid will meet him out on the launch pad." _

"Will do!" She flipped the switch. "Skyfire, this is Autobot City. Request granted. Wreck-Gar and First Aid will meet you out on the launch pad, over."

_ "Cav, me gal, can't ye stay out of trouble for five clicks?"  _ Another voice called out.

"Zodiac!" She laughed, her optics brightening as she bolted out of the communication tower.

"At last! Peace!" Eject sighed. "No more tribal chants!"

"Um...that was Bloodhound Gang," Rewind stated.

"Same difference. Oh! Nomar's up to bat!"

"Did you know that Nomar Garciaparra's first name stemmed from ‘Ramone’ spelled backwards?"

"Who cares? As long as he and Pedro get the Sox to the pennant, I don't."

*

The white and black Autobot joined the small group of bystanders gathered to watch the transport land, even Wheelie and Daniel, who were both perched atop Sludge's head.

No matter what, it always seemed that there was always new energy bound up when a shuttle or transport came in from home.

Especially, in Cavalier's case, bringing not only supplies to fix her up, but old friends as well.

And, as she embraced Stormrave and Zodiac happily, she did not realise that there was one other who was going to meet up with an old friend, but this one bore old wounds.

Skyfire, once the supplies had been unloaded and transported inside to the medlab, transformed, observing his surroundings. He hadn't been back to Earth in at least a decade. Wandering the known quadrant, he ended up on Cybertron a stellar cycle ago. It gave him time to think before rejoining the Autobots.

And speaking of which, his optics followed two large cars, one black and orange, the other Starlight Black, entered Autobot City, his face brightened.

"Artemis?"

*

Minnie eased her Roadrunner to a full stop, allowing the engine to idle for about ten seconds before turning off the ignition. For a brief second, as she stepped out of her musclecar, taking her dataport by the strap, she realised it was probably the only non-Cybertronian-built vehicle in Autobot City.

"So, the 'Bots treating you as good as we did?" she questioned the black femme, who standing with a hip shot and her arms crossed over her chest.

"As good as one can expect," Artemis stated bluntly. "I don't blame them that they don't want to trust me. It may be better that way..."

"Art, you're trustworthy," Minnie retorted. "You don't betray your friends."

"In your eyes, maybe, Minerva," the black transformer shook her head, turning towards the inner courtyard. "The Autobots have different prerequisites for trust."

"Again, why don't you just come back to Four Winds?"

"I'm not gonna risk you guys if Galvatron comes looking for me there," Artemis shook her head. "The Autobots can handle Galvatron and his minions."

"But not the other Decepticons?" Minnie grinned.

"I'd rather not talk about it here," her companion hissed.

"That bad?"

"First code of mercking, Minnie..."

"Mouth shut, I know. But I like conversation."

"Then we can talk about this in private sometime."

"Everything's private with you," Minnie punched lightly at Artemis's calf. "Of course, we all have to have some secrets to keep..."

The Cybertronian’s optics dimmed somewhat. "Secrets indeed," she nodded ruefully.

"Artemis!" Kup called out, emerging from the monitor room. "Just the lass I'm looking for...who's your friend?" He nodded towards Minnie.

Before Artemis could answer, the human pulled out a badge from her jacket and flashed it at the old warrior.

"Captain Minerva Ryder of the Earth Defense Core, Extraterrestrial Foreign Affairs division. I received a report on a young man who managed to hijack an Autobot." She flipped closed the badge and pocketed it. "We have reason to believe he might be in danger from a sentient race not affiliated with the EDC and Intragalactic Alliance."

Artemis glanced down at her human friend, not betraying her surprise one bit.

"By our regulations, we have to talk to the non-human party prior to discussing anything with Earth-based law officials."

"By all means," Kup agreed with a short nod. "We're just as bent on getting to the bottom of this as the humans."

"Thank you. The more cooperation, the faster we can get this case solved." Swiftly, Minnie pulled out a steno notebook and an ink pen. "Would it be possible to gather all those involved in this incident?"

"The person you want to talk to first would be Rodimus," the elder retorted. "Cav's pretty banged up from the accident; she's right now in the med lab."

"It's a start, then," the human nodded.

"I'd escort you down to the War room, but we've got another crisis we have to handle at the moment."

"I'm sure that Artemis could-"

"This involves her," Kup interjected with an unreadable glance towards the gloss black femme.

Artemis blinked, now showing her surprise.

"What did I do now?" she demanded.

"It's not what you did, lass," Kup took a hold of a passing Autobot's arm, that being Jazz. "Better take Captain Ryder to see Prime...she's conducting an investigation for the EDC dealing with what happened today."

"Will do, man!" Jazz saluted with a flourish only he could accomplish.

"I'll meet back up with you later, Art," Miinie interjected. "We can catch up on old times."

"Sounds like a plan," the black Transformer nodded, returning her attention to Kup.

"Okay, what's going on?" she then demanded.

"We just got a report from Cybertron...there was an attack," Kup replied, leading Artemis into the security room. "A small one. No casualties, but...Elita-One was concerned. Apparently, their leader asked for you by name."

"Really?" Artemis fell into one of the chairs, propping one leg up and draping an arm over the knee. "Do they know who it was? I know for a fact Scourge has been haunting my old hangout for me..."

"She says they have reason to believe it wasn't under Galvatron 's orders. Ever heard of a Seeker named Sonyx?"

Artemis stared at her old friend blankly.

"I'm sorry..." she shook her head, "but for a click there, I thought you said Sonyx."

"I did."

"Slot." Grimacing, her head bowed with another shake. "I was hoping she would have been killed by now. I should have done the universe a favour and done it myself when I had the chance."

"So you do know her."

"Too well."

There was an uneasy silence.

"Well, lass?"

"Well, what? She's a fanatic, though not as bad as Galvatron. In fact, she's not too fond of him at all. Why she's attacking the Autobots and not him is beyond me."

"Why would she attack Galvatron?"

"He killed their leader," she stated simply. "That's why she and her buddies call themselves Vengeance Posse. Actually, I'm surprised they attacked at all. Normally, they're too drunk to do anything requiring thinking." With a snort, Artemis added, "they probably got lost on their way to Charr and stopped to ask for directions."

"So what exactly are you saying?"

"Well, their unofficial motto's 'Dangerous drunk, dangerous sober.' And they are, but in an annoying sort of way."

"So why would she ask for you specifically?"

"I...really don't want to get into it."

"Artemis..."

"It's a really stupid thing..."

"Artemis..."

"Five million stellar cycles ago, I walked out of Maccadam’s with her date for the night."

Kup only stared at the starlight black Autobot before him.

"Tell me you're not serious."

"Old man, if I was joking, you'd know it. I told you it was stupid."

"She wants to kill you because you stole her date."

"Right."

Kup blinked a couple of times, then finally shook his head.

"So this was probably a random attack after all."

"Perhaps. Sonyx isn't known for her planning strategies."

"They have one of her lackeys in custody, needless to say. Elita wants you present when they question him."

"Because of my connection with the Decepticons?" she asked.

"Partially. She didn't go into details. I told her I'd talk to you first, if you're up to doing some travelling."

"I really wasn't looking forward to returning to Cybertron just yet," she stated bluntly, rotating her left shoulder. True, it was still a bit sore since her "accident," and technically, she wasn't supposed to be transforming as quick as she did, but if there was one thing she didn't do, it was tacking anything easy. "But if Elita's wanting some answers, they're probably the ones I want to. Sonyx is nothing but an annoyance, but a dangerous one when provoked."

"then let me run it by Rodimus, and you can return with Skyfire-"

"Skyfire?" Her voice took an edge of shock. "But he was -"

"He's one of us now. Prime and the others found him about 20 years ago buried under about a mile of ice."

_ That's not entirely true,  _ she thought inwardly.  _ Starscream found him.  _ She was the one he went to after Skyfire defected, only to return to the glacial prison to save his new friends. Or so she thought.

However, she did not voice this aloud. It wasn't needed. Perhaps that's what Kup had heard word of mouth. After all, he was on the Autobot colony of Cygnus IV at the time.

_ Skyfire since then must have been able to escape his confines between then and now,  _ she concluded. It didn't matter now. What mattered was that Skyfire was alive.

An old, dear friend.

"And he's now here?" she demanded, betraying her excitement.

"Well, yes. He brought Zodiac and Stormrave with the supplies. You knew him, I take it."

"Of course! He was a dear friend of mine...talk about an extreme bad news/good news day." She snapped her fingers. "What about the situation of the virus? It's been pretty quiet since it first came to light...any break-through yet?"

"You're going to have to talk to Perceptor and Spike about that, lass. Why did you bring that up?"

"I was thinking afterwards I could dig up some information on the Quintesson whereabouts, seeing that apparently, that's a looming threat. Autobot or Decepticon, I still have my connections. I can find out information that anyone else would have an easier time counting the teeth in a Sharkticon."

"You've been hanging around me too long with an analogy like that," Kup shook his head with a small grin. "Okay. Let me talk to Rodimus. However, you will be getting an 'escort,' just to warn you."

"As long as he keeps his mouth shut and doesn't get in my way, I'm cool with that."

"As long as we're seeing optic to optic...for another concern, one that's been bugging me for some time. Now lass, I've known you for a long time, and I wouldn't say anything if I wasn't worried about you..."

"Then spit it out, Kup," Artemis ordered. "I don't like beating around the bush."

"I've noticed you've been talking to yourself lately. Shooting nasty looks at inanimate objects."

Her expression metamorphosed quickly into denial.

"Reminds me of a bit of post-war trauma," the old soldier continued. "I thought you didn't fight the battles, but I suppose it could happen to anyone."

Yeah," she sighed forcefully. "Old ghosts, I suppose."

She heard a snort behind and to the left of her. Fighting the urge to shoot an icy glare to the source of the mock, she met Kup's gaze.

"Just a recommendation, Artemis...perhaps you should get that checked out while you're up home. Might give you some piece of mind, especially with what happened the last few weeks."

She blinked, then laughed unexpectedly, ignoring for the moment the chuckle behind her.

"Old man, I am probably beyond 'peace of mind!' You got to see the front line; I saw what happened in the background, ignored by the public. 'Peace of mind' is the last thing that concerns me, especially when I'm too busy being concerned over Galvatron and his minions as well as Quintessons, and the bit earlier today. If you haven't guessed, Minerva and I go a little ways back. If something is so serious to get her involved, then it is a reason to be concerned."

"Artemis, calm down," Kup ordered. "I know you've a bit unnerved-we all are. You're trying to take the universe's problems and make them your own. Why don't we just take what is most immediate and concentrate on that."

Artemis shut her optics, exhaling.

"Not to sound like a doomsayer," she retorted, "but doesn't everything these days seem to carry the air of urgency?"

Kup chuckled solemnly.

"I'll talk to Rod about going to Cybertron and about digging up the information. Why don't you return to quarters to rest up?"

Rest up. In other words, go somewhere where you can't cause any trouble.

"Sounds like a plan to me, old timer," she nodded, standing. Stretching her arms over her head briefly, she winced as slight pain arched in her left shoulder. Rotating it easily, she then strided out with an unreadable expression but a somewhat proud stride up to her quarters on the fourth level.

Entering the lift, she pressed the glyph to the level, then struck a bit of a hipshot, her finger tapping her jawline in thought.

"You're scheming something, Arty," the disembodied voice hissed by her auditory sensor.

"That I am," she retorted, her voice low. "What did you find out?"

"Quite a bit, actually. That flesh creature can not only see but hear me as well. We had a somewhat pleasant conversation...though he tends not to know who to show respect for."

"A pity," she added, deadpan, though the spectre did not pick up on her sarcasm, or, if he did, did not acknowledge it.

"Indeed, but something tells me that isn't what is on your mind at the present."

"Skyfire's here," she interjected softly.

Starscream remained unusually quiet.

Finally, he broke the silence as the lift's doors opened to the fourth level.

"Forget about him, Artemis," he ordered sharply. "He would betray you if you let him know of your plans."

She glanced over her shoulder momentarily, then tapped in her key sequence to the door's lock pad in front of her. Upon entering the quarters, she quickly closed the door, locked it, then, nonchalantly, pulled a little device from a storage compartment on her arm and tapped a button on its face, setting it by the door.

"What's that?"

"White noise generator," she answered, a bit proudly. "No one but me can hear you, but they can hear me. Kup already knows I talk to myself; I don't need anyone else breathing down my neck about it."

"Why not get rid of him?"

"A potent ally. It would be a waste. He has experience I lack." Artemis sank into an armchair, her legs stretched out in front of her, her arms draped to either side. "Now, back to Skyfire..."

"I wouldn't trust him," Starscream snapped. "He betrayed me to side with the Autobots."

"Needless to say, he was our friend. If he sided with the Autobots, then he must have some hold still of that concept." She gave a small smirk. "You're still hanging around me."

"There's a beneficial reason for that, need I remind you."

Starscream willed himself visible, leaning forward to meet her gaze solidly. Though his form was translucent, his ruby optics seemed very much solid.

"I am not prepared to take on Galvatron, Flyboy, you know that."

"No, of course not."

"Skyfire might be the key if I can convince him..."

"Elaborate." His voice was stern, commanding. "I've told you he would be untrustworthy. I want to know why you would think otherwise."

"He's an Autobot. He hates Decepticons. My plan is against Galvatron and his minions. They are Decepticons." She sat up, crossing her leg over her knee and wrapping her hands around the arms of the chair loosely. "I tell him some selective truths, play on his responses, and we shall see what he does from there."

The spectre brought his face closer, till his nose was mere inches from her's.

"In other words-"

"-I mention nothing of your scheme until he proves himself." Her mouth broke into a wide, plotting smile. "If things get a little heated, I have other tricks up my gauntlet."

"Hmph." She felt a slight pressure on her wrists-glancing quickly out of the corner of her optic, she saw that his translucent hands clasped around them as though he had her pinned. She shifted her gaze back up to his optics. "And if you find that I was right, and he turns on you, betraying your intentions to the Autobots?"

"It won't happen," she retorted, her optics hooded. "I will make sure of that."

"Would you be prepared to destroy him if necessary?"

"I won't need to either way. Don't worry about a thing, Flyboy."

"I don't want to lose this chance, Artemis."

"I know you don't. That's why I won't fail."

"No...of course you won't."

For the moment, Artemis forgot. She wanted to forget everything that had transpired during the past three stellar cycles, longed to be back at the back table of Four Winds passing the time away enjoying the company of her flyboys-this one especially-not fearing for her life and spark.

Only the moment existed, as though nothing had happened between them.

The gap between them closed-

-and suddenly, Starscream's semi-coherent grip fell through her wrists, the chair arm. His entire ethereal form plunged downward as he took up a rather unusual look of surprise, phasing through the starlight black Cybertronian.

Artemis jumped, now crouching on the chair with her posterior sitting on the back of the chair, her own optics wide as her hand rested on her chestplate.

"Dammit," she breathed, shaking her head. She quickly glanced around, still intaking air shallowly, exhaling forcefully. "Flyboy? Are you-"

"If you ask me if I'm still functioning, I swear, Arty, I'll make your life one living hell you'll regret," he growled, rendering himself invisible. "Foolishness...how could I forget..."

"Wishful thinking, perhaps," Artemis sighed, relaxing somewhat as she leaned against her arm propped on one knee. "Dammit."

"Indeed..." he growled next to her auditory.

She sat silently, deep in thought, for a couple of cycles, jarred back to the present by a buzz at her door.

"Who is it?" she questioned, before realising her jamming field was still on. Deftly, she jumped from her seat and strided over to the door, turning off the mechanism on the table and returning it to her arm compartment. She then repeated her question.

"Artemis?" A voice she hadn't heard since before the War beckoned. "It's me...Skyfire...I was hoping we could talk..."

"Arty, I'm warning you-"

She shot Starscream's ghost an unreadable glance. "Please," she mouthed, "trust me..."

He condensed his form to a bright orb of light, bobbed a couple of times, then released a "feh" noise, before phasing from her perception.

"Thank you," she whispered to empty space, before unlocking and opening the door. Staring up at the taller Autobot before her for a full cycle, unsure what to express towards him.

"Artemis...I had heard you were still online..." Skyfire coughed, initiating conversation.

"As much as one could expect," she stated. "Though I heard otherwise about you."

"Yes...many of our old friends believed so as well," he glanced downward, seemingly saddened by his statement. "It is heartening to see that you have chosen to side with the Autobots in their time of need."

She bit down on her tongue as the disembodied chuckle echoed from the far corner of the room. For a brief click, she wanted to snap at the cynical mirth Starscream was expressing, the irony of the situation at hand.

Though she decided to remain quiet on that comment, she only nodded somewhat. Skyfire had been naïve; being trapped under ice for longer than the Autobots and Decepticons who came to Earth were stasis-locked on board the Ark and the Nemesis probably didn't help matters.

"Indeed," she retorted instead, with a nod of her head. "It's good to surround oneself with old friends."

Another chuckle escaped the ghost as she internally wished for her old friend to go away. This conversation was getting nowhere; she hated small talk, as adept as she was with it.

"It is even more of a relief to know you are still alive!" Skyfire exclaimed suddenly, then coughed again. "I suppose you have heard about...you know...I don't know if you were still...seeing him...since we had departed..."

He was talking about Starscream. And he was getting uncomfortable with the subject. Good. That meant he was going to break conversation soon. Artemis gave a small smile. Let's speed up the pace.

"Oh, I had heard," she nodded again, letting her smile drop sadly. "A shame...waste of intelligence...an insult really. We can only hope Galvatron is overthrown by the other Decepticons soon...he is worse than Megatron, ten-fold, with his insanity, and the non-Minion 'Cons are restless with it. I would imagine a revolt sometime soon if they could get organized amongst themselves."

"We can only hope," the red and white Autobot agreed. "It would make our goal so much easier to obtain."

"Indeed it would. Skyfire, I'd hate to cut this conversation short, but I have some research to tend to. Perhaps when I head to Cybertron later, we can continue on this conversation." She made a move to close the door.

"Of course...Kup has already approached me with the situation. I shall see you later, then." With a nod and a smile, Skyfire exited to the turbolift.

Artemis watched him leave, breathing a sigh of regret.

"Hmmm...manipulative, Arty," her dead companion muttered. "You learned well under my tutelage. Now, if you don't mind, share with me your grander scheme a little further-"

She held up a hand somewhat, signalling him to cut off. Furrowing her brow, she looked up and down the hallway.

"What is it, Arty?"

She shook her head, saying nothing.

There. There it was again. A slight scuttle in the vent next to her feet.

Swiftly, she slammed down to one knee, ripped open the vent cover, snatching at the creature within. Yanking it out by the neck, she pivoted sharply, throwing it into her quarters as she smacked her fist onto the door latch, closing her, the intruder, and the ghost into the room. Standing, she turned on the dampener once more, staring down at her quarry.

"Dammit, Arty, why the hell did you do that for?" the much smaller spy cassette demanded, uprighting himself in her chair.

"What are you doing here, Rumble?" she snarled, leaning forward to meat his glare.

"Trying to find out information on how to cure the boss!" he snapped.

She nodded somewhat, snatching him by the neck again and lifting him into the air.

"Then why aren't you in the lab spying on Perceptor and Spike?" she demanded curtly.

"Because I overheard you and the geezer talking about the virus!"

"And what makes you think I know anything more about it than the average Transformer?"

"I needed to hang around you because you're the one getting off this rock soon!"

"Cut the slag, Rumble!" she snapped angrily. "What did you hear?"

"Hear what? You and the traitor-"

"Who are you loyal to?" Her tone was not leaving any room for error, the blue spy realised. She may be sporting an Autobot symbol, but nothing about her attitude had changed. Especially when she unsheathed her handgun and pressed it to his temple."Rumble, I'm not in the mood...who are you loyal to?"

Rumble sensed something behind him. A very slight disadvantage, he realised. She had him in the air; his piledrivers were useless.

"To Soundwave!" he retorted hysterically. "Arty, come on...I won't report anything about the Autobots, just the virus...just let me go!"

"And who is Soundwave loyal to?" Her tone never changed.

"The Decepticons!"

"Not to Galvatron?" The spy hesitated. "Rumble, your uncertainty is not comforting."

"Galvatron's fault the boss is the way he is!" he refuted sharply. "We only do what Galvie tells us because we'd end up slagged if we don't!"

Artemis glared at the cassette for a full cycle before throwing him back into the chair. Her handgun, on the other hand, remained ready in her hand.

"Think we can count on him?" She questioned aloud.

Swiftly, Rumble glanced behind him. Seeing no one, he returned his wide optics to the large black Autobot in front of him.

"Who are you talking to?" he demanded. "Arty, c'mon, me and Frenzy and the other guys never betrayed you...hell, a lot of the others liked you...never got slagged when you were around..."

"Rumble, quiet." She finally sheathed the weapon and crossed her arms over her chest. "He wouldn't dare use his piledrivers here. Too many Autobots in the area, and it's just him, right?" She seemed to wait for an answer.

"Frenzy and me's the only ones who didn't get slagged up with the stage two virus, and Frenzy's on Cybertron," Rumble retorted, only to realise she wasn't talking to him.

"Didn't think so. He's outnumbered, even now," Artemis continued. "So back to my initial question; you think we can count on him to deliver a message back?"

"Anything! Arty, I knew you wouldn't shoot any of us without good reason! I'll do anything...c'mon!"

"Rumble, quiet!" she repeated. "I'm not going to slag you. At least not if you comply with what me and Flyboy have in store for the Decepticons."

"What?" Rumble's fear morphed quickly into curiosity. "'Flyboy?' Starscream? He survived? How could he? We all saw him get incinerated-"

Her expression only deepened with a frown.

"He's dead, yes. Doesn't mean he's totally gone from the picture. Do you truly think Starscream would allow such injustice to keep him down from his grand scheme of things?"

"If you were anyone else, Arty, I would think you were nuts." With a heavy sigh, he nodded somewhat. "Fine. I accept the terms. What is it?"

"I'll get you the information on the virus we have already gathered in the meantime, in exchange for this one service and your loyalty to the Decepticons, not Galvatron and his mockeries."

Rumble stared up at her, surprised.

"But..." He seemed lost for words. "But...you're an Autobot."

"Let's not start this again. You know my loyalties, Rumble."

"I know better than to screw with you, Arty. Okay, what is it?"

She held out her arm and popped out a laser disk from a compartment, one with a purple Decepticon logo marring the surface.

"Get this to Thundercracker or Onslaught. No one else. If a Minion tries to get a hold of it, destroy it. I'll find another way to get to them. Starscream, make sure he does what he is told. If needed, possess him."

"Arty, you're really serious..." Rumble took the disk, staring at it in shock. "You really want Galvatron dead."

"You know damn well the answer to that," she growled. "And you know I will do whatever's in my power to get to that goal."

"You're...not serious about Starscream, though...are you?"

"I don't joke at a time like this, Rumble."

The spy suddenly felt something clutch his spark, like icy shards of metal. He gasped somewhat, optics wide in horror.

"That's enough, Flyboy. Don't want to scare him too much."

Instantly, the icy shards retracted, leaving again a frightened Rumble.

"I don't want to resort to that, Rumble. I really do like you guys; but this is a rather pressing matter, a gamble that I'm wagering my very spark on."

"Then I take it you're not here because you want to be an Autobot."

"It's called insurance, Rumble," she stated coldly. "The Autobots granted me asylum from Galvatron, leaving me free to work uninhibited my plans to avenge Starscream and get rid of the Unicronspawn once and for all."

Rumble blinked again, suddenly smiling.

"Well, gotta say that it's good to hear you're on our side," he chuckled. "I knew the Autobots couldn't corrupt you that easily."

There was a slight beep on her intercom.

"Rumble, transform and hop on," she ordered, holding out her arm, the compartment still open. "I think I know what that call's about."

Rumble chuckled, leaping into the air and folding into his compact cassette mode, landing neatly into the compartment. With a flick, she closed the hatch and then turned off the dampener once more.

"Artemis here," she beckoned.

_ "Art, can you come to the War Room for a click?"  _ Rodimus Prime's voice questioned.  _ "We're finalising some plans and we're going to need your input." _

"Be right up," she retorted.

_ "Great. Rodimus out." _

"Fascinating," Starscream hissed into her auditory. "Exactly as planned. You were indeed a worthy protégé, Arty."

"Had a formidable teacher," she sighed, exiting her quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"I...shouldn't have done that." Brash had returned, cradling her head. "Why did I do that?"  
>  Mac frowned, but before he could speak, his patron looked back up; now Black once more, she grimaced as though in torment. "Sky did not deserve to be treated that way. I was horrible to him."  
> "Were you, my girl?"  
> Black bit her bottom lip. "I...no. That didn't happen in my iteration. We were together, but...he was Jetfire, and he never went missing before the war."  
> "You need to focus," Mac pulled up a stool and sat across from her. "I'm here to help, yes, but you are the only one who can control your iterations. Keep in mind the one thing different and focus on it."  
> Black vented, bowing her head. Reaching into a hip compartment, she exhumed a ball-jointed doll, skillfully handmade and well-loved, but did look at it. "Which iteration am I, Mac? Why did it take so many times to finally get it right?"  
> "There is no right or wrong way to go through a cycle. Who knows what the next cycle will bring?"  
> "You don't?"  
> "Well, I have a vague idea, but you're unable to process it until your cycle is completed. And there's still much to be done for both of you."  
> "Oh yeah. The Lap of Honor...the Leap of Faith. I suppose I am both, then, the one on Luna One, the one on the Lost Light?" Black clasped both hands around the doll. "Ah. I see what you mean by there's no right or wrong. It's all experience."  
> "And Brash is the first iteration, yes. The mistakes she makes will carry to the next, and whether there's a sense of which path seems correct at the time, and the choice she made to push away those who could break through her defenses -- "  
> " -- eventually she'll come to trust others over time." Finally, black gazed down at the doll. A small smile broke through. "Even if it takes a few iterations."_


	4. Flirting with Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Earth, Captain Ryder and Detective Lovecraft butt heads over what to do with Luke, dragging the Autobots into a mediator's position, but something doesn't sit right into the detective with Ryder's story.

War Room

Autobot City

Earth

Minerva was there, typing away at her computer. Rodimus, Kup, and Ultra Magnus were there as well, staring up at the monitor the human was projecting to. Also present was the black-haired detective from the accident earlier.

"So what's the story?" Artemis questioned, propping herself on the table with one leg over the other at the knee, reclining with her hands behind her as she too looked up at the monitor.

"Which one do you want to hear first?" Minerva questioned. "EDC findings or Portland PD findings?"

"Simplest one first, please," the black Autobot yawned somewhat. "I'm lacking imagination today."

Detective Lovecraft nodded. His jacket was slung over a human-sized chair, his arms crossed over his chest. Wiry, but with strong arms and wide shoulders, his tee shirt fit perfectly, even with the shoulder holsters. Not like Artemis cared, but she knew damn well Minerva was studying the other human like a textbook.

"The perp's nineteen-year-old Luke MacArin, a street kid who resides in Hell's Pantry, a squatters’ camp with a lot of drug activity," Lovecraft explained. "He's been described by many as a quiet computer geek who tends to do anything he can for the older folks of the Pantry. We've managed to find out some information about his mother-an ex-pat from Highland Scotland - one Arin NicLennox. Not much is known about her and it could be an alias, save that shortly after arriving in New York, she headed to the West Coast, gave birth to her son at Mercy Hospital in Los Angeles, never leaving the name of the father, and then moved up to Portland Area. Five years later, she disappeared. No trace of her at all."

"Why is this important to the situation?" Artemis demanded.

"Because it's what Mercy and Portland General had found in their records," Minerva stated. "Nate, if you may..."

"Both hospitals reported similar stats on the kid, medical phenomena that can't fully be explained by modern science."

"In other words, he's either a genetic deviation or his old man was of extraterrestrial origin," Minerva retorted blatantly. "Nowadays, any interspecies quote-unquote 'partnerships' require reporting to the Intragalactic Alliance, especially if they produce offspring. However, back in the late eighties and early nineties, that wasn't a concern save for in the tabloids." The female began typing at her keyboard. The image on the monitor changed to a three-d projection of a basic human shape. "What we have here is mostly human. However, reports from both Mercy and Portland General stated that he had abnormally high levels of bioelectrical activity."

"So the kid's a spark plug," Artemis retorted.

"For starters. All humans have a bioelectrical charge, mostly in the nervous system, in the form of synapses travelling throughout their neural nets. However, Luke MacArin has an over-abundance to the activity. If a normal human had a slight static shock, he'd be a lightning bolt. Not saying this kid's astropokinetic-"

"Say what?" Lovecraft demanded the other human.

"Sorry. Psi terminology for those who are able to channel and redirect their bioelectrical energy outwards. Anyway, the connection between this kid's energy levels and the fact that he's able to control and manipulate electrical systems may not be sheer coincidence." Minerva sighed heavily. "Which leads up to the Nebulons."

Artemis cocked her head, regarding her human friend with newly interested optics.

"Nebulons are almost similar to humans, save for some biological differences, including an organ located in the right frontal lobe of the brain, one that produces a strong bioelectrical current geared specifically to control electronic machinery. There's two factions, one who can control and one who can't; those who can are the Hive." The female shook her head. "They're nasty to deal with. My superiour officer doesn't want anything to do with them, but two Hive officials are looking for the boy."

"So what can we do?" Ultra Magnus stated. "We have a potentially dangerous human, attracting another, more confirmed, danger. This may be out of the humans' jurisdictions."

"Excuse me," Lovecraft held up a hand. "What we have is a suspect resisting arrest. Until we can prosecute-"

"Detective Lovecraft," Minerva leaned forward, the low-swoop of her teeshirt showing off a hint of cleavage. "This is no longer a singular investigation. By my research, you have the initial suspect of trafficking crack cocaine, one Archie Stevens. All you have in custody is a frightened young man who may or may not be fully human, who had hijacked an Autobot to escape. He broke more EDC regulations than Portland, Oregon laws. And, by creed of the Intragalactic Alliance, this is now EDC jurisdiction. The young man shall be brought to the EDC Quarters on Sirius II, a neutral planet, where he will be granted asylum from the Hive Nebulons. If judged guilty by the IA's court of law, he will serve time with community service at the Kethys Correctional Facility on Sirius II with no off-planet privileges once his asylum leave is over. Since he is orphaned, with no family, this would be the better avenue to partake in the kid's best interests."

Lovecraft did not retort, but his narrowed eyes was the only indication of defeat.

"You're going to let the perp walk," he finally stated bluntly.

"Detective Lovecraft, this is no time to talk further on the discussion," Minerva snapped, almost angrily. "If we must continue this, then I will be happy to have both of our supervisors present. If I didn't know any better, I would think that there was something personal between you and Mr. MacArin."

"You know, this isn't really any of our business," Rodimus stated, "but this isn't exactly the time or place to be arguing over this. Kup, why don't you take Detective Lovecraft and Captain Ryder up to the main gate? If either one of you has any more questions..."

"No, I have everything I need, thank you, Prime," Minerva nodded politely, closing her laptop.

"Nothing more today," Lovecraft grumbled,

"Rodimus is right," Ultra Magnus agreed as the humans were escorted up to ground level. "If these Nebulons possess the same power as this human, quite possibly even more so, then they could prove a menace to not only the Autobots but to all sentient races mechanoid and organic!"

"Stating the obvious for our viewers at home, eh, Magnus?" Artemis smirked. The large blue and white Autobot shot an angered glare that the black femme.

"We are facing a potential threat, one that you seem not too overly concerned about."

"Knock it off, you two," The red and yellow leader ordered.

"Stay out of this, kid," Artemis warned, though a smirk played across her face. "I think this goes beyond the situation at hand."

"Why don't I just let the two of you talk this out?" Rodimus then questioned rhetorically.

"I have no idea what you're leading to, Artemis," Ultra Magnus retorted coolly.

"Oh, I think you do, Magnus," she stressed.

"Just try not to kill each other?"

"Stay out of this, Rod," Artemis repeated. "This has been brewing for quite some time now."

"That much is obvious," Rodimus turned to leave. "Try not to break out in a fist fight over this, Art. You're not with Decepticons any more."

"Indeed," Ultra Magnus nodded. "Though I wouldn't expect anything less from her."

"Now you're aiming a little below the belt, Magnus," she chided mockingly as Rodimus took that as a queue to exit the War Room. As the doors closed, she spun around on the table, lying on her belly with her head propped up in her hands, kicking one leg back and forth slowly as she gazed up at Ultra Magnus's angry face.

"Oh, Magnus, just as touchy as ever," she cooed.

"Why are you doing this?" he leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table. "As far as I'm concerned, you left our lives three million stellar cycles ago."

"Oh, that," she rolled her optics. "So that's why you played dumb about me. You're embarrassed of me. Just because I wanted to get a little more out of life than entering slag into a database and directing communication connections."

"But why the Decepticons?" the transport's voice took a new tone, one of a quizzical nature.

She only shook her head, her smile dropping.

"You think in terms of black and white, Magnus," she commented softly, her ice blue optics wide as she stared up at him. "You wouldn't understand my reasonings if I explained each and every one to you."

"Try me." His tone grew a sharp edge. "What would make you leave your friends and family to join a bunch of cutthroats?"

"Because it was Autobots who made them these, as you so delicately put it, 'cutthroats.'" She sighed deeply, her optics now narrowing. "Perhaps inadvertently, maybe on purpose...who knows." Crossing her arms on the table, she buried her face, now staring at the surface. "You wouldn't understand, Magnus. You wouldn't understand my reasonings, you wouldn't understand my dream, or my goal."

The large blue and white Autobot stared down at his once-friend, deciphering her words.

"And what is your goal?" he demanded, though the edge had dulled.

"Unite Cybertron." Her voice was muffled. "One people. Not one faction. Autobots and Decepticons alike, as well as the colonies...one Cybertron."

Magnus pulled out one of the chairs and sat, one arm crossed over his massive chest, the other resting his head, finger tapping his jaw slowly.

"You know," he stated softly, "you might have come across that a bit easier with the Autobots."

"And the Decepticons?" She lifted her head, a small smile on her face. "Would they have a better chance listening to an Autobot than another Decepticon on the matter? Magnus, I don't like the fighting any more than you do. That's why I went mercenary, so I didn't have to fight my friends on either side." She averted her optics angrily. "Galvatron changed that. I threatened him just by my presence alone. He's mad, Magnus, and the other Decepticons are terrified of him. They don't follow him because they want to. He has the power to rule by terror. All the more reason why he needs to be stopped."

"What you're telling me is old news, Artemis."

"I know; I'm just telling you what I know." She pushed herself back up into a sitting position before sliding off the table and back on to her feet. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some work to be done."

"Artemis, wait." Ultra Magnus stood as well, taking hold of her arm. "You'll be returning to Cybertron on the next transport out. I'll accompany you-"

"Magnus, no." She gently pushed his hand away, crossing her arms over her chest. "The Artemis you knew is long gone. I have changed since the conflicts started on Cybertron. Nothing can bring back who I used to be. It's best to keep it as such." With a shake of her head and a sad smile, she gave a slight, almost forced chuckle. "Besides, you're much too stable for my tastes."

Bowing her head once more, she strided out without waiting for another word from Ultra Magnus.

***

Zodiac and First Aid were examining the post-op with Cavalier when Rodimus entered the medlab.

"How're you, Cav?" he asked sincerely.

She glanced up at him, her optics smiling brightly.

"A little sore, a bit numb, but I'll be racing your sorry tailpipe in no time!" she remarked cheerfully.

"Don't think so, me gal," Zodiac flicked a finger against her elongated audio sensor cover. "Ye's gonna take it easy for a couple o' weeks. And t' make sure, I'se gonna be campin' down here to keep yer arse outta trouble while my assistant Brits be takin' charge o' the Cybertron lab."

"Wonderful." Optics pouting, Cavalier glared at Zodiac. "You get to babysit me. Won't Stormer get jealous?"

Zodiac winced, dropping his medical scanner.

"What makes ye think they'se somethin' between that hotheaded flygal and me, ya shagger?" he demanded angrily.

As the two argued, First Aid ventured towards Rodimus.

"She'll be all right now," then Protectobot exclaimed softly. "Nothing more complex than a joint replacement. Though I was wondering, Rodimus, if I should return to Cybertron while Zodiac is here. There needn't be three of us here if we're needed on Cybertron."

"I'm not going to split up our gestalts, First Aid," Rodimus shook his head. "We'll concern ourselves over that before the next transport back." Playfully, he reached out and placed his hand on Cavalier's head, as a human would ruffle a friend's hair. "In the meantime, Cav, concentrate on getting healed up before issuing any challenges for races."

She laughed, ducking somewhat.

"Why? I could take you as is!" she exclaimed.

"Right," Zodiac biffed her good arm. "Ye goes ahead and think that, me gal...in the meantime, ye's gonna stay put."

"Looks like more time to pester Blaster," she sighed melodramatically. "Oh well."

"As much as I'd like to hang around you guys," Rodimus's smile fell somewhat. "I've got serious matters to attend to. After Zodiac gives you a clean bill of health, I'll take you up on your offer, Cav."

The white and black Autobot watched him leave as First Aid began cleaning up the OR.

"Slag, Zodiac," she hissed, her shoulders slumping. "I miss Hot Rod..."

"Nothin' we can do about it, me gal," he shook his head, helping her off the table. "Responsibility comes to people in different ways...just a little sooner and a little more sudden for him."

"Yeah," she whispered softly. "I suppose so."

"Hey, Cav! Guppy!" The winged form of Stormrave ventured into the OR. "How'd the operation go? You didn't offline her, did you?"

"Stick it in yer afterburner, Pidge," Zodiac chortled. "She's gonna be fine, iffin we can keep her from zoomin' around at a million klicks a megacycle."

"Oh, goodie, a challenge!" the red and grey flier laughed. "For you, that is, Guppy. For me, I've got another assignment."

"Lucky you," Cavalier retorted deadpan. "I've gotta deal with this maniac alone?"

"Took the words right out of me mouth, ye shagger," Zodiac rifled back.

"Looks that way," Stormrave nodded. "Kup's detailed me to escort duty."

"Sucks to be you," the navy and maroon medic sniggered. "Who's the lucky bastard who has to deal with your wonderfully charming personality?"

"Artemis." Stormrave leaned up against the wall, crossing her arms over her canopy.

"The Decepticon?" Cavalier questioned rhetorically. "Primus, what did you do to piss Kup off so bad to get stuck with her?"

"Cav, enough," Zodiac warned. To the other femme, he then asked, "Why? I thought she was confined to the area."

"Elita-One has requested her presence back in Iacon when they interrogate the prisoner from the attack on Moonbase." The Sky Patrol captain shook her head somewhat. It was unclear what she was expressing at that moment. "Afterwards, Artemis has her own assignment, dealing with some information research and retrieval on some Quintesson activity as well as the Unicron Virus. I have to make sure she doesn't overstep her boundaries."

"Shadow her," Cavalier nodded. "Well, Stormer, if anyone, you're the bot for the job."

"Yeah," the jet's head bobbed down somewhat, staring at the floor. "Cav, if you don't mind, I have to speak to Zodiac for a click."

"What's bothering you?" The white and black Autobot questioned, concerned.

"Please?"

"Cav, me gal," Zodiac tapped her shoulder, giving her a soft but firm gaze. "Please...Stormy needs some private time..."

Cavalier nodded, venturing broodingly out of the OR.

"Now," the medic took Stormrave's hand. "What's the problem?"

"I'm questioning Kup's judgement," she whispered. "Why send me?"

"Ever think he knows?" Zodiac queried.

"All the more reason not to assign me."

"Somethin' tells me, me gal, that he knows what he's doin'. He knows Art as much as anyone...if he didn't think ye could handle shadowin' her, he wouldn't have assigned ye the job, right?"

"That's...not what I'm concerned about."

"Then what is it? If it's about yer past...frig, Stormy, ye were never one o' them. Ye didn't even know the difference. Don't matter what ye built as, jus' as long as what's in here." He tapped the center of her canopy, over her spark compartment. "Ye's may be a crash, rude, arrogant little flygal who can't keep her feet on the ground for a megacycle, be ye's still Autobot. And..." he cleared his throat, stepping closer to kiss her softly on her lips, "...I loves ye for that."

She smiled somewhat, returning the gesture for five clicks before someone coughed from behind them.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything important," First Aid chuckled silently, "but Zodiac needs to get back to post-op."

"Oh, for the love of Primus," Zodiac rolled his optics as Stormrave ducked her head, almost seemingly ashamed. "First Aid, ye saw nothin', right, me son?"

"Not a thing," the Protectobot shook his head, optics smiling.

"Ye's the best. Now," he returned his attention to the red and grey flier, "get yer sorry afterburner outta me OR before I'se kick it into suborbit."

"You couldn't kick it if I gave you a free shot, Guppy," Stormrave pushed away from the wall as her cool demenor took over once more, pivoting on her heel to stride out of the OR.

"Yer momma was a Decepticon, ye energon guzzler!"

"Yer momma was a Junkion, slagsucker!"

Zodiac raced to the door, took hold of the jamb and leaned out, then stuck up his middle finger at her backside.

"BITE ME, YE METAL PIDGEON!" he shouted.

"You'd enjoy it too much, Guppion!" she called back.

"You two seem to enjoy being pains in each other's backsides," First Aid commented as Zodiac pulled himself back into the OR.

"I thought ye's didn't see anythin'," the navy and maroon medic narrowed his optics as he picked up his scanner he had dropped earlier.

"Absolutely nothing."

"Good."

*

"Art!"

The black femme halted en route to her quarters at the sound of her human friend's voice, turning her head somewhat as Minerva ran to catch up.

"Well, that was certainly interesting," she chuckled, burying her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "Cute guy, too...great eyes...gorgeous arse..."

"I figured you'd be paying more attention to him than the situation," Artemis smirked somewhat. "So what's the scoop? I didn't know you and Drez were part of the EDC."

"Well," the blonde human whistled, taking long, easy strides. "We aren't. But-" she held up a finger, "-it's better for us to get a hand on this kid before the actual EDC and the IA does. At least within the four Guilds, he won't be harmed by any outside interference, and no one would be able to hire any of the Guild members to ace him."

"I saw your point back off I-5, Minnie; you don't need to convince me," Artemis stated as they entered the turbolift, pressing the floor glyph. "How's your cover story working then?"

"Drez has a few internal bugs within both the higher-ups of both the EDC and the IA. They'll back up our story. As soon as I get a clean break with the kid, we'll rendezvous with the Shrike's Cry - under the guise of a Sirian transport called Larksong - at the Spaceport...all with legally validated documentation. Like WD-40." For emphasis, Minerva sliced the air in front of her. "How about you? You've got some sort of plan percolating..."

The lift stopped, admitting the two onto the floor.

"You know what's interesting, Minnie?" Artemis chortled somewhat. "Someone had asked me that two megacycles ago in that same lift." She tapped in her key to her quarters and made a gesture for the much smaller sentient to enter first.

"Hmmm...spacious...not like my first apartment in the Big Apple. That was a sewer...literally." The human walked about, studying the very sparse living arrangements. "I would have expected more trophies, knowing you."

"Trophies I wouldn't want to fall in the wrong hands," Artemis stated, turning on the dampener as the doors closed. "Especially the ones I've got to live with for the meantime. Rumble, out." She flipped open her compartment in her arm. The small cassette flew out and transformed in front of the human.

"Why, hello, Minnie!" Rumble greeted somewhat brightly. "Fancy meeting you in this dump!"

"Back off, Rumble, I don't want to catch what you've got." Minnie winked somewhat. "What are you doing here?"

"Need to cure the boss somehow. The 'Bots know nothing, not unusual." He looked back up at Artemis. "That was a dirty trick you pulled, sweetheart. Magnetically lined compartment..."

"Better safe than sorry, Rumble. Didn't affect your core processor, though, did it?"

"No," he grumbled. "Just my recording functions-wait. Something's weird. Computer, run virus scan."

As he did such, the black femme returned her attention to the human. "Minnie, I'll be heading to Cybertron shortly, and I have a chance-"

She stopped shortly, her optics narrowed somewhat.

"She's a member of the Guilds, Starscream," she retorted to an unheard question, at least to Minerva. "I can trust her. Anyway, we need the Four Winds as a central, neutral moot point."

Minerva arched an eyebrow.

"The ghosts talk to you too, eh?" she questioned bluntly. "Didn't think near-death experiences worked the same way for Cybertronians as it did for us flesh creatures."

"Apparently, it does...Starscream, at this point, we can use all the allies we can muster, regardless...yes, even the flesh creatures-oh, that's what this is all about? Jealous, are you? He means nothing-fine, can we talk about this later?"

"Domestic dispute with a dead guy. That's a first," Minerva chuckled as Rumble's optics widened in an epiphany.

"Art, you did something to the virus!" he exclaimed. "That magnetic field slowed it down!"

"What?" Both Minerva and Artemis demanded.

"When I first ran my virus scan-when the boss was infected with Stage Two-it was dormant within the back of my neural processor. Two solar cycles ago, the virus had managed to infect some of my optic neural relays. I've had foggy vision since. Arty, that field cleared up my vision. I ran another diagnostic...the virus is back at early Stage One!"

"Well, it seems we're making more process than the others," she stated bluntly. "All the more reason to get that information back to Soundwave."

"Not the Autobots?" Minerva questioned.

"The virus infected a human's laptop computer. At this point, it's expendable. Soundwave isn't." Artemis glanced back down at Rumble. "Consider that part of the trade. Too many questions would be asked if I told Perceptor. I can't afford to answer any more questions."

"Trade?" the human repeated.

"He's acting as courier for me, to get a message to Thundercracker."

"Ah..." Minerva nodded. "Hey, Screamer, gonna get your vengeance in any way you can, eh?"

"The Air Commander's gone off sulking," the black femme stated with a smirk. "I think he's still a little sore about what Magnus said earlier."

"Oh? Does someone have a crush on the bad girl?" the human taunted.

"I would have thought me defecting would have gotten him out of that mindset," she shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, well."

"You cold-hearted bitch," Minerva laughed. "Nope, can't see you with anyone who doesn't have an ego the size of the known multiverse."

"Yeack." Rumble made a face. "Do I really have to stand here and listen to all this...yuck...girl talk?"

"Poor Rumble...no one to love you?" Minerva teased, looping her arm with his. "Y'know, I'm not picky...I take my men any way I can..."

Rumble reeled back as if he had touched a live wire.

"Gross! Minnie, get away from me, you sicko freak!" The spy cassette glared wearily at the other transformer in the room. "Arty, can we go now? The human's grossing me out!"

"Then why not slag her?" Artemis demanded deadpan, taking a dataport from a table near a terminal.

Rumble blinked, taken aback.

"Can I?"

"No, you can't!" Minerva protested brightly, taking his arm again. "How can you slag someone who thinks you're so sexy?"

Artemis shook her head as Rumble was, for once, lost for words, as he tried his hardest to retort.

"Rumble, how are you and Frenzy getting back to Charr?" she then asked.

"I'm supposed to meet him on Cybertron. From there, we're gonna use the space bridge to Charr."

"Galvatron's plan?" Artemis groaned.

Rumble chuckled nervously. "Yeah."

"Idiot. The space bridge was decommissioned..." Her optics narrowed. "But not disassembled. You think you and Frenzy could into Shockwave's tower and get it working long enough to link up to Charr?"

"Not a problem!"

"Without being detected?"

"Problem." Rumble shrugged. "I imagine the bridge is heavily guarded. Getting past it is no problem. Getting it operational, doable. Activating it will probably set off alarms left and right."

"Then I suppose you're going to have to think up a distraction--Starscream."

Rumble shied away, creeping around Minerva as though trying to hide.

"Hey, Flyboy, wanna do some damage to aid us in the grander scheme of true Decepticon hierarchy, my one true leader?"

"Yes, the way to a man's spark is through his ego," Minerva remarked, deadpan.

"At least I realise the superiour intelligence of the Air Commander. Megatron should have taken him more seriously. So, Flyboy, what do you say about creating a distraction so that Rumble and Frenzy can get the disk to Charr?"

"That is totally freaking me out," Rumble growled softly.

"Well, you can always play with the alert systems long enough-but of course you must have thought of it first..."

A smile formed on her face as she nodded somewhat.

"Then I will inform Drez of the situation when I return to Four Winds," Minerva nodded. "We'll have the back room cleared for you and the Merc Guild on alert."

"Who else is in your little coup?" Rumble demanded, pronouncing the word as "coop."

"Thundercracker, Onslaught, Starscream, of course, and myself." Artemis smiled warmly. "And now, you."

The spy's optics widened once more.

"You aren't-"

"One iota of betrayal, Rumble, and your name gets dropped. And Galvatron isn't as lenient as Megatron was."

"Oh, she's got a point," Minverva whistled as Rumble audibly gulped. "And even if you do deny it, what's saying Galvie's not gonna waste you just for even talking to her?"

"You're not helping, human," Rumble growled. "Arty, you're serious, aren't you?"

"What do you think, Rumble?" she tapped her arm impatiently.

"Not to screw with you," he sulked, defeated.

"You're on your own from here," Artemis finally stated. "Come on, Minnie. We've to a plan to execute."

"You do. I've got my own to worry about."

"Oh well. Rumble, hope to see you soon!" Artemis blew the spy cassette a kiss before punching the door latch to allow her and Minerva outside.

The tiny Decepticon only stared after the two femmes departing, before slipping into an air vent.

***

Portland Police Department, 16th Precinct

Detective Lovecraft stormed into the office area, kicking his chair out from under his desk before falling disheartedly into it, glaring at his blank computer screen.

"Rough day?" Zoe questioned, sticking her head over the cubicle partition, in her hand, a mug of coffee.

"Oh, you would have such a ball," he growled, covering his face with his hand. "EDC is taking over."

"What?"

"This case just got more complicated. Seems we've got more going here than just a simple resisting arrest."

"Hijacking," Zoe pointed out.

"Can't. He took off with an Autobot. Constitutes EDC enforcement. Face it, Zoe, we're up Shit Creek on this one."

"Well, if it's out of our court, Nate, what are we going to do?"

"I seriously don't know," he sat up, scraping his chair closer to the desk and turning on his computer. "You ever get that strange feeling that there's more going on underneath?"

"It's called cop intuition," she pointed out. "We're supposed to get it all the time."

"I don't like how Captain Ryder seemed chummy-chum with one of the Autobots," he retorted bluntly. "Besides, I've heard her name before...not with the EDC, either..."

"What's her name?"

"Minerva Ryder." Lovecraft began tapping in a sequence of commands on the keyboard. "I've heard that name before...but where...? Zoe, do a search on an Autobot named Artemis while you're at it. Hey, Trish!" He called out to the strawberry-blonde intern who just happened to be walking by. "Coffee, black, double sweet."

"Don't know how much help it will be...our records on the Cybertronians are severely limited," she exclaimed, sinking back into her cubicle.

"I just need any information you can find. Hello..." His eyes, one blue, one green, widened at the search results. "Three instances of her name. One in historical records of a Scot woman who was burned as a witch in 1707, and two in recent events...one dating three weeks ago...one Dr. Minerva Ryder of Portland Polytech."

"Same person?" Zoe called over.

"Seems that way. Hmmm...it's a news article of a computer chip from the Unicron planet that was being studied before a Cybertronian mercenary broke in and stole it."

"Smells like an inside job to me," his partner commented. "Let me do a bit of cross-checking."

"The other one dates two days later. Same Dr. Ryder of Portland Poly resigns her position to start a family in the East. Heading to New York."

"Coincidence? I think not," Zoe popped her head over the wall again. "Nate, you might want to see these pics I pulled from the database. No mention of Artemis, though."

Nate stood, taking the proffered coffee from Trish as she passed by heading to the captain's office, and strided around the cubicle wall.

"Apparently, the perp in that case was wearing some sort of jamming device; security cameras failed to operate correctly. However, the Portland Sentinel managed to get a pic or two in before the perp left the scene." Zoe turned the monitor towards Lovecraft, revealing the back end of a large automobile, somewhat blurred.

"That's her, all right," he remarked into his coffee.

"What?"

"'67 Goat. Taillights give it away. No other markings. It should say 'Pontiac' below the keyhole in the trunk. Bunch of amateurs. Probably 200 speed film, too. Remember the black 'Bot from the accident earlier?"

"Nate, you're getting conspiracy on me..."

"She's the one who took the chip. She's the one who's friends with Captain Ryder." Slamming his cup on the desk, he reached over the cubicle and grabbed his jacket. "We do have a conspiracy, Zoe! I'm gonna intercept! Meanwhile, get a detail to guard that kid!"

"MacArin?" Zoe raced after her partner. "Why?"

"One way or another, Ryder's a problem! We've got to make sure she doesn't get to MacArin before we do!"

"So we've got to protect this kid now?"

"Affirmative!"

"Shit," Zoe careened to another cubicle, picking up the phone receiver. "Unit 7, report to Portland General! We have a situation brewing!"

***

Autobot City

Minerva slipped back into her driver's seat, buckling her five-point harness.

"So, meet you at Four Winds in a couple solar cycles?" she questioned the black Transformer.

"Count on it, Minnie," Artemis smiled. "Just like old times."

"Damn straight," the human saluted, revving up her engine. "And next time..."

"You couldn't beat me in that jalopy if you tried!" she chortled, tapping the fender lightly with her foot.

"Wait until I get the 550 dropped in this sucker, then you'll be sorry," Minerva laughed, popping the clutch and smoking the tires on the tarmac.

"Don't get your hopes up," she smirked softly, returning her attention back into the city, almost running headlong into the last Autobot she wanted to see at that moment.

"Artemis, I'm sorry I snuck up on you," Skyfire apologized. "I was hoping maybe we could talk some more, if you're not too busy-"

_ Primus, he didn't take a hint! _ She cursed silently. "Could I take a raincheck on that, Skyfire? I need to speak to Kup on an urgent matter that can't possibly wait."

"Oh, of course," the large Autobot nodded. "I wasn't aware you were so busy..."

"You know me; I tend to keep myself occupied no matter what," she winked, striding past him towards the inner city.

Once he was out of sight, she exhaled, narrowing her optics.

"Primus, was he always so  _ nice _ ?" she hissed.

"A follower, indeed," her disembodied companion retorted. "Not much on truly thinking for himself. I can see where you would think he would aid us in our plan...hmph. Do you truly wish to pursue his possible recruitment?"

"Perhaps...but I won't do it now," she mumbled softly. "You don't go looking for allies on enemy territory. I'll wait until we get to Four Winds."

"Where we would have the advantage," she practically heard the spectre nod. "You wouldn't be able to convince your old friend, the Mighty Death, into our scheme, would you?"

She forcefully exhaled.

"Ritter does his own thing," she hissed. "I can trust him with the plan; if he chooses to help us, then so be it. If not, then he's not going to run to Galvatron and betray us, if that's what you're wondering. I'm not-"

Her tone suddenly dropped as her optics fell on the figure within the gate, turned away from her.

"Well? Finish your sentence!" Starscream ordered.

"We'll continue this later, Flyboy," she waved him away absently, striding towards the gate. Hearing the black Transformer's footfalls, the other, winged, femme turned sharply on her heel and faced Artemis with a cool look on her face.

Seeker...

Artemis cocked her head, meeting Stormrave's optics-no...that was a visor. She could tell. It wasn't obvious, unless you knew what you were looking at. This Autobot before her was a Seeker.

"Artemis," the Autobot jet nodded. "I'll be accompanying you on your journey to Cybertron. My name is Stormrave, captain of Sky Patrol."

That same basic demeanor. Sure, personalities differed, but that same flyboy-well, flygirl, in this case-cockiness at various levels that she knew in every Seeker she had been in contact with.

"Well, then," Artemis finally nodded with a small smirk, "something tells me I'm going to be in good hands with you, then."

Did she just wince? The mercenary questioned internally as she examined Stormrave's expression. Obviously she knew of Artemis's past; obviously, Stormrave had...not a problem, but a feeling against the grain...around Decepticons.

There was no doubt she was Decepticon-built. Autobots didn't have that war design.  _ Were you raised Autobot?  _ She wanted to ask,  _ or did you decide to join them on your free will? _

Instead, she remained silent, keeping the somewhat-friendly smile in place as she waited for Stormrave to make the next move.

"We will be leaving in two megacycles," the red and grey Seeker-no, Autobot-finally stampered out, fighting to regain that cool exterior. "Unless, of course, you have a problem with that..."

"No problem whatsoever," Artemis nodded, hands loosely at her hips with one knee bent. "So, do you go by Stormrave, or Stormy, or Stormer, or what...?"

Stormrave seemed taken a bit aback. Apparently, Artemis rationed, she had not expected her to strike up small conversation. But this was one of the times she wanted to know more about a person. Was this jet before her a coincidence or what?

"I'd prefer Stormrave," she snapped somewhat, arms crossed over her chest.

"Fine. Just don't call me Arty, and we'll get along just fine," Artemis winked, her smile growing wider. "Main launch in two megacycles, eh?"

"Yep." Not yes, yep. She was getting a little more comfortable, not much, though. She was going to be lotsa fun at Four Winds, the black femme chuckled silently. "Also, I need to know your plans for your research mission. Details and whatnot."

"I'll let you know on the way there. I'd rather not discuss my contacts in openness, where someone can overhear. It's bad manners."

"When did a mercenary care about manners?" Mercenary. Not Decepticon. Stormrave's tone was not at all accusing...more like a jest. Oh, Artemis was going to like this jet! If only she could find out more.

Artemis let her mirth show this time, with a heartful laugh.

"There are some who you respect, and others you walk over. Mercking's not totally cut and dry as some might wish people to believe. It involves many shades of grey, knowing what to express and how much to let it show. Clients and contacts, you respect fully. Fellow mercs, same thing. The competition? Don't be afraid to waste them if necessary, though I don't care for those extremes. For me, humiliation works just as well."

Stormrave's face broke somewhat of a grin as Artemis spoke.

"We're dealing with a threat that most know very little about-"

"The Quintessons," Stormrave nodded. "I've heard."

"Exactly. But I know the first and foremost expert on those five-faced bastards. And it just so happens I also know his hangout. And, if I ask really nicely, he might just let us in on a few things. But that's the first place to search around. And, while we're at it, get a decent mug of lager while we're at it."

Her new companion chuckled somewhat. "We're not supposed to drink on duty."

Artemis clapped the jet on the shoulder with a wink. "I won't tell if you won't."

With that, the black femme about-faced and strided back into the inner city.

***

5 km outside Portland

This time, the song was Marvelous Three's "Sugarbuzz." A little new and alternative than her normal tastes ran, Minerva got hooked on the song mainly because it was the bus boy's favourite song, playing it over and over while he cleaned up the bar after hours. As she sang along, she almost failed to notice the familiar black and red Mustang Cobra going eastbound, away from the city.

"Wonder where he's going in such a hurry?" she asked herself. "Probably looking for my number-"

Her brow furrowed and her smile dropped when the Mustang made a sharp u-turn, kicking up a massive cloud of road dust as the blues were snapped on.

"Hell of a way to get a chick's number," she snarled distastefully, downshifting and pulling to the shoulder, taking out her registration and proof of insurance out of the glove compartment. Rolling down the window as she undid her seat belt, she looked up at the rather irate raven-haired detective, resting on the butt of his nine-mm.

"Well, good day, Detective!" she smiled brightly. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"I think you know damn well what the trouble is, Captain, or should I say, Doctor Ryder?" he demanded curtly.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Detective," she shook her head, her eyes wide in surprise.

"Portland Polytech, three weeks ago, one Doctor Minerva Ryder reports the Unicron chip was stolen, but never saw the perp. Since it was out of human jurisdiction, we had to hand it over to the Autobots. Interestingly enough, no files were charged on the perp, whom you seemed very friendly towards today. Now, I must really be missing something, Captain or Doctor or Miss Ryder, and I would like to know what."

"Ms. Ryder will suffice," her eyes narrowed as her smile dropped. "I'm thoroughly impressed. You managed to see through the glamour."

"Hands where I can see them!" Lovecraft barked sharply, drawing his piece. "I want you to come out of the car slowly. You are under arrest, you have the right to remain silent-"

"Oh, give it up with the Miranda, kid," she growled, taking hold of the handle and pushing open the door. At the last second, she looked up at the detective's face, winked, and slammed the door into his leg. Deftly, she slipped out, hitting the ground on her knee and sweeping his legs out from under him. Glaring down at him writhing in pain, she shook her head with a frown.

"Oh, I really hate doing that, but that'll learn you," Minerva sighed, holding out her hand. "Now, come on...put the Glock away and I'll explain to you what I can on the way to get the kid."

Lovecraft grimaced, whipping the handgun to her as he stood shakenly.

"You're not going anywhere. Impersonating a high-ranking officer of the EDC, attempted kidnapping, attacking an officer of the law, reckless speeding-"

"Story of my life," she growled, darting over the hood of her car to the other side and rolling behind it. Lovecraft fired a warning shot across the hood.

"Come out with your hands-" he noticed the back door flying open. Swiftly, he cracked off two more shots through the rear door window, then sidestepped around the back of the large car.

"Why did you force my hand?" Minvera shouted from around the front. "We could have peacefully resolved this!"

"My ass! You resisted arrest!"

"I am not bound by human laws!"

Lovecraft furrowed his brow, taking a quick peek into the back seat of the Roadrunner, seeing a large, empty sheath of some sorts.

That was just enough distraction for his reluctant opponent he suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder, from above.

His gun hand moved before his head; when his eyes locked onto the creature tapping him, fighting his first instinct to flee.

"What the-" he took the final shred of bravery and locked his crosshairs once more. "What the hell are you?"

The creature-humanoid, though elongated feet perched on the roof of the car, leathery wings outstretched behind it, along with a thin, serpentine tail twitching-held a claymore's point to the cop in a clawed hand. The face-still possessing a human look, though the eyes more slanted under two thin horns from the brow and the ears elongated-was almost dead on of Minerva's. Other than the draconian appearance, the tone was that of California tan, her features more elven.

"Draconian Sidhe of Morrigu's Court," she answered shortly, the voice still Minerva's. "Minerva Ryder is my real name, as far as I know. Now put the Glock away, and let's talk. If I wanted to harm you, I would have done it by now."

Trembling, Lovecraft finally holstered the gun.

"Good." The creature jumped down from the roof and threw the sword back into the car. Instantly, the draconian form evaporated like a mist, reverting her back human.

"Was that some sort of illusion?" Nate demanded.

"No, this is the illusion," Minerva spread her arms and looked down.

"I don't believe in magic."

"It's not magic," she retorted. "Get in the car. We've got to get to MacArin and quick."

"Mind explaining your M.O.?" Lovecraft slipped into the front passenger seat.

"You gonna keep an open mind about it?" Minerva jumped back into her seat and buckled up. "I know of the kid's mother. You're not going to find much on her in human records. She was born forty years ago somewhere in Heilan to a Baen Sidhe noble and a human. She was raised human because if the Baen Sidhe court caught wind of her, they would kill her."

"What is a Sh'ee?" Lovecraft demanded as Minerva peeled away from the Mustang.

"It's difficult to pronounce. Fair Folk. Elves. Fae. Fairy. Whatever. They're from the Celt lands, which is one big thinny between this realm and theirs, called Elsewhere. Contrary to belief, they're not magical beings. There's no such thing as magic, only science that can't be explained. They are beings of solid energy, for the best way to explain them. But they are powerful, they are immortal, but they’re not invulnerable. In fact, they die easier than humans."

"And they're especially vulnerable to iron," Lovecraft interjected dryly.

"Iron is a conductor that ciphons energy, especially Elsewhere energy, big time. You've done your homework."

"I watched  _ Gargoyles _ when I was in high school."

Minerva stared at him for a couple of seconds, blinked, then resumed her attention on the road.

"Anyway, I wouldn't be so concerned with the kid if the Nebulons weren't so hot to getting his arse back to their planet. Nate, these bastards make the Decepticons look like schoolyard bullies. And now that I know who his mother is, the Baen Sidhe would want him either dead or for their own, and if it is the later, Earth's in deep shit."

"And why is this, Lady Titania?"

"Don't flatter me," she retorted dryly. "I hear your sarcasm. The Sidhe aren't technologically inclined, if you know what I mean. Because of their physiology, they short electronics just by walking past them."

"I see..."

"No, you don't. This kid can control electronics. Even if his daddy's not Nebulon, the Baen Sidhe are a trouble all in of their own. Damn! If only I could explain it better."

"And you?" Lovecraft glared at her. "What about you? You just said you're Sidhe, and yet you're surrounding yourself in iron and electronics."

"Draconian Sidhe, and that was my dad's side of the family. The Sidhe, the Baen and the Daoine, used to breed lower Sidhe with other Elsewhere creatures for slaves, guards, menial labour, stuff like that. Draconian Sidhe were the elite guards of the Court, created from-"

"-Dragons and elves."

"To put it mildly."

"I'm sorry, but this is all bullshit."

"You sure? I can just drop my guise again and-"

"Just keep talking."

"Thanks. The Draconian Sidhe are the most grounded--least susceptible to the effects of iron, with very little of their own energy for what you would call 'magic'-of the Sidhe courts. Does that help?"

"No. Please explain why I left my car back there and you're not in the back in handcuffs?"

"Because I would hate to ruin such a beautiful Cobra getting away."

"I see."

"Wasn't my other story a lot more believable?"

"Hell yeah."

"You can still believe that, if you want."

"But it's not the truth."

"And you think what I told you is?"

"No, I think that's bullshit you read in a Mercedes Lackey book."

"I can assure you, this isn't an elvensteed." She patted the dash. "One-hundred percent Mopar muscle. Well, a few modifications you'll get to see if the Nebs come around."

"Wonderful."

"After all that has happened in the past with the creatures from outer space, you're reluctant to believe any other intelligent life besides humans came from this planet?"

"You just said the Shee came from another realm."

"They did and they didn't. It's a plane that's commonly shared between Earth and Elsewhere. Same space, just different existences. It's difficult to explain to linear thinkers."

"Tell me you didn't just insult me."

"No, you're just being human."

Lovecraft stared straight through the windshield, arms crossed over his chest, as Portland's lights twinkled in the twilight.

"I think I was better off believing in just the giant robots," he muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"You tried so hard to make yourself unlikable," Black muttered, neither to Mac nor the doll but to a point to her left. "I get it. That...seems to be a constant, doesn't it?" She looked up, meeting Mac's optics. "I didn't deserve companionship, or kindness. I accepted to carry the burden of my actions alone, and pushing away those who were willing to help was my punishment."_  
>  "Now, I'm certain there are other iterations who recognised the pattern; just because you slipped back doesn't mean you didn't learn." Mac set another mug in front of her, the scent of sweet and spicy wafting towards her.  
> "Magnus is a constant," Black continued, accepting the proffered drink. "Or rather, the idea of Magnus is a constant. A sense of stablility, of law, so to speak, a balance of the chaos I once followed? Mac, I think I've been here too long. I'm thinking in circles and haven't gotten much further in what I'm supposed to be looking for." 


	5. The Air Commander and the Wasp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream makes a deal with Luke: if the human helps him with his crusade against Galvatron, Starscream would help him escape and let the Earthside Autobots be -- for now. But things get complicated when a temporally displaced Predacon with a history against the Air Commander....

Portland General Health

Luke awoke to the sounds of a commotion outside his door. Curiously, he lifted his head to see through the tiny window in the door.

Looked like more guards.

"Doesn't make sense," he muttered to himself. "Why would they need so many guards on me?"

"It seems you are highly coveted by at least two fleshling factions." The disembodied shrill emitted from his left.

"Shit, I thought I got rid of you," Luke snarled.

"If only you were so lucky."

"Okay, Mr. Air Commander, you seem to know what's going on..."

"Indeed, though there are parts that do not make any sense. Your ability is an asset to whoever gets their hands on you, yes, but besides that, why would anyone want something so fragile...? You seem physically weaker than the normal human...and you're wounded to begin with."

"Hey, you should have been me this morning," Luke laughed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I was a nobody, some homeless kid no one cared about." Glancing down at his johnny, he found his pants and shirt folded on the bureau. Deftly, he grabbed them and threw them on, running his hand through his red-brown hair quickly. "Now I've got the cops after me, and..." Luke looked in the direction of the spectre. "Who else?"

"Why should I tell you, fleshling? You are none of my concern."

"You're interested in me just as much if not more than these other dudes," the human retorted, grabbing his jacket. "And at this point, I'd rather be haunted by the ghost of the Decepticon Air Commander than deal with these bastards, regardless who they are."

"Is that so?" The tone took a manipulative dive. Luke stood, shoulders back, and nodded. "Then it seems it is time we agree to the terms. You will do as I say. Any questions?"

"What's in it for me?" Luke smirked.

He could practically hear the sneer.

"You as well as one of my former associates are the only ones who can hear and see me. I will be, how shall we say, an informant for you."

"Nice and all, but I could figure out that kind of stuff on my own." Luke examined the window, noting the alarm on the upper left corner. "Looks like you're gonna have to try harder to get my services, Mr. Air Commander. Sucks to be dead, I would imagine."

"Be silent!" Starscream ordered.

"Ohh, I touched off a nerve," the human grumbled, deadpan. "Look on the bright side: the only ones who can see you are a wiseass homeless kid and your girlfriend."

"Arty is not my 'girlfriend,' as you so crudely put it. She is merely a partner of convenience who has the same goals as I."

"Anyway, as I was saying, it could be worse; you could be walking around between living and dead and no one can see you." Luke smirked, stepping up to the sill and touching the alarm, shorting it. "Which would explain why you're hanging around a lowly human. You don't want to  _ not  _ exist."

"What would you know about what I want?" The spectre's tone took a hysterical turn.

"Hate to break it to you, Mr. Air Commander, but you're a mite transparent, and I don't mean because you're dead. Now, what I'm trying to figure out is why you're hanging around an Autobot, and how she ended up 'not your girlfriend'..."

"For a remark like that, I should kill you-"

"But you can't. So you have two choices. Deal with my wiseass retorts or deal with your Autobot 'not your girlfriend'..."

"Silence! I will not tolerate your mockery!"

"No, of course not." Jumping from the sill, Luke surveyed his surroundings once more. "Just curious how you could end up with an Autobot. I thought Decepticons and Autobots were mortal enemies."

"For your information, Artemis is not an Autobot."

"For real? Hmmm, she seemed to be acting all Autobot and stuff." Pulling off the bedding from the cot, he dragged it over to the window and cracked open the small vent window. When it didn't open enough to allow him through, he began rummaging again for anything to remove the screws bolting it.

"And why should I tell you? All humans are alike; one way or another, you'll run back to the Autobots and repeat what I tell you. I will not risk losing this chance for my revenge!"

"On the Autobots?" Luke questioned.

There was a pause, an uneasy silence.

"Some reason, I take that as a no."

"Galvatron is my first priority," Starscream finally replied slowly. "There are only a few Decepticons brave enough to side with me against him. Without an avatar, however, I am unable to lead those loyal to me."

"Makes sense. Listen, Mr. Air Commander, I'll make you a deal. I'll help you, only to get rid of Galvatron. Only because I see him as the greater of the evils. As soon as Galvie's gone, you're on your own. I won't stand by you if you attack the Autobots. However, I will keep everything said between us private."

"A plausible deal, but I sense something more." Luke could feel Starscream's narrowed glare. "I shall restate your earlier question: What is in it for you? You're too crafty to make a deal that benefits only me."

"Again, while I help you, no harm is done to the Autobots. As soon as Galvatron is out of the picture, the deal's over, and I go back to being me and you do whatever you want to do."

"Is that all?"

"You wouldn't agree if I asked you to leave the Autobots alone indefinitely, would you?"

"You are intelligent, for a fleshling...a human one at that. If what Ryder says is true, however, perhaps I can tolerate you little more than the normal human."

"'Ryder?'" Luke questioned.

"A fleshling acquaintance of Artemis's...none of your-"

There was a sudden shout from outside the doors.

"Shit," Luke hissed under his breath. "No time..."

"The Autobots remained unharmed in my schemes for exchange of your abilities against Galvatron. We have a deal, human."

"And, you're just gonna leave me to deal with the feds. Thanks."

"What much can I do?" The spectre's tone grew mocking, cold. "I'm just a ghost."

"Good point," Luke snorted, narrowing his bright green eyes. "End of the road."

Glancing back at the window, he bolted forward. The bedding he was going to use for a rope forgotten, he sat on the sill, kicking his leg at the pane, causing spider-web cracks in the safety glass. With another kick, he bent the frame, just enough to slip through to the ledge.

However, his broad shoulders stuck.

"Dammit!" Bringing his arms close to his chest, he pushed his shoulders forward, his knees against the cold masonry outside the window as he yanked back. With a grimace, he heard a pop, then felt a shot of pain as he finally slipped out to the ledge, his left arm in agony. "Dammit!"

Dislocation. It had to be.

Looking down, he judged the distance between him and the ground and decided against jumping three stories into a parking lot full of police cruisers.

"This way," Starscream ordered curtly, next to his ear. He felt a rush of air going forward, and took that as an omen. Expertly, he ran across the ledge, cradling his wounded arm.

"Don't want to lose your investment, eh, Mr. Air Commander?"

"I do wish you would stop calling me that."

"Term of respect, I assure you."

"I bet it is. Will you still function?"

"I dislocated my shoulder...as soon as I get someplace safe, I can have someone pop it back in for me."

"You talk too much, human," the spectre scoffed. "Around the corner. There is a fire escape."

"Thanks," Luke pivoted sharply on his foot around the tight corner of the building, taking hold of the fire escape rail with his right hand. Vaulting over the rail, he landed hard and proceeded to run down the metal stairs.

"Starscream, this is too easy," he hissed. "There's no guards, no cops."

"Perhaps they underestimated your condition."

"Perhaps. But you'd think by now they would have checked my room and see it in a state of disarray."

"Or perhaps they are total idiots."

"I sometimes like the way you think, Mr. Air Commander-"

He suddenly paused, eyes wide, staring at the large orange and black musclecar careening over the grass towards his position. "Oh, shit!"

"Wonderful," Starscream growled. "Ryder's decided to join in the fun."

"’Ryder’?"

"I spoke of her earlier."

"Then she's a friend?"

"I have no friends, fleshling!" the spectre suddenly snarled. "I haven't the need for them!"

"So do we stay or run?" Luke demanded shortly as the doors of the Roadrunner's doors flew open, the passenger shielding himself with the door as he aimed his nine-mm at the young man.

"Freeze!" Detective Lovecraft ordered sharply.

"Shit," Luke growled, raising his uninjured hand over his head.

The driver threw open her door and slid out, slamming it closed after her before storming up to Luke. Blond, a bit on the short side, not exactly pretty, but nonetheless, the green-eyed young man felt compelled to heed to whatever she demanded of him.

"Minerva Ryder, I presume," he whispered.

"You've heard of me," she nodded.

"Somewhat reluctantly," he smirked somewhat. "What's going on?"

"Kid, you're in danger. I represent a protection agency who can keep you safe from those who are out to use and abuse your abilities."

"Oh, wonderful. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, here I come." He chuckled, a bit pained. "I won't wear the spandex, though."

"Oh, a wise guy. Listen, kid, the humans are the least of your worries, as well as the EDC and the IA." She nodded towards her car. "Get in. We'll get you to a safe place and explain on the way-" she then noticed his wounded arm. "What happened?"

"Probably disloc-" he grimaced in pain as she snapped her hand out and expertly twisted his arm back into place before he could finish the sentence. "Thanks," he coughed through gritted teeth.

"No problem. We'll look at that in more detail when we get to our destination."

"What about the cops?"

"Don't worry about them right now. They're the least of our worries. Get in the car, and you can start by telling me how you know of me."

As she slipped back into the car, Luke followed reluctantly, opening the back door.

"Um...you know your window's shattered?" he questioned, taking his jacket sleeve and sweeping away the glass to the floor.

"We can thank the good detective for that. Nate, dear, get back in the car. We've got to get you back to your car before your precinct begins to worry."

Lovecraft shook his head viciously, but complied as she sheathed his handgun and slid back into his seat. Minerva had already turned over the engine and shifted into reverse by the time the detective had closed the door.

"So, back to my question, Mr. MacArin..." Minerva cued.

"Um...you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me. I've seen quite a bit today." Deftly, she shifted into neutral, then into first and popped the clutch, smoking the tarmac.

The woman caught Luke's nervous glance at the cop through her rearview mirror and laughed.

"Don't mind him...he's under a glamour," she stated. "Aren't you, Nate, sweetie?"

Lovecraft gave Minvera a stern glare, but said nothing.

"A what?"

"It's difficult to explain. He's not under mind control or anything. Just a bit of a haze, with one little suggestion, which is to obey what I say. It's a natural ability with me. So again, I repeat the question..."

"It's gonna sound a bit crazy, but for some reason, I see dead robot ghosts."

"You too?" Minerva chortled. "Let me guess...the Air Commander."

"You see him too?"

"Nope, but a mutual friend can. Has he been a real bastard to you?"

"As much as one can expect."

"He doesn't dare screw with me," she suddenly laughed, startling Luke. "Hey, Flyboy, if you're around, I still have those pictures!"

Luke's face grew perplexed.

"He doesn't seem too happy about that."

"He wouldn't, which is why he wouldn't screw with me even if he was still alive. It's what the good guys call entrapment and the bad guys call blackmail. And what I call a living."

"What are the pictures of, then?"

Minerva laughed again. "Oh, now I would never break contract with anyone, living and dead. If anyone besides him or Arty knows what they are or where I hid them, contract's off, and I would be just another fleshling to get rid of in his book."

"And he knows this."

"Hell yeah. But he couldn't find the photos if he wanted to."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't tell anyone where they are...one thing that I am, and that's good at my word. And good at hiding stuff."

"So, you're taking me off-planet?" Luke then questioned as Minerva careened onto a ramp to the interstate.

"Have to. The guys hunting you on-planet are more dangerous than the ones coming from Nebulos."

"I thought you said-" both males interjected at the same time, for different reasons.

"Luke, the guys hunting you here aren't human. Nate, the Sidhe can use any Earth-bound energy as a source of power. While you're at it, sweetie, why don't you take a nap? You've had a rough day."

Instantly, Lovecraft's head bobbed downward as he snored softly.

"He won't remember a thing," Minerva whispered, more to herself.

"So, mind explaining?" Luke demanded.

She suddenly sighed loudly.

"Luke, hunny, I don't know where to start."

***

Lovecraft lifted his head, groggy, as if he had gone on a weekend bender and forgotten the entire party.

He was in his Mustang, the seat reclined as if he had taken a nap within it, the radio playing softly KBOT's Metal Meltdown Marathon. Monster Magnet's "Silver Future" was coming to a close. Hand to his head with a groan, he checked his watch. Not even seven p.m. yet.

"I left the precinct not even an hour and a half ago," he mumbled to himself. "What the hell happened?"

The deejay for Metal Meltdown, female with an electronic twang to her voice (which wasn't unusual, since KBOT was run from Autobot City), broke through the airwaves.

_ "And a powerful rocker by the awesome Monster Magnet, that was 'Silver Future' from the _ Heavy Metal FAKK 2  _ soundtrack! Coming up, we have a request and dedication from Minnie to Nate...she had fun, babe, but don't expect her to call back! Ooooohhhh, sounds like a sour date there! Anyway, from the  _ Use Your Illusion 1  _ album, here's G'n'F'n'R with 'You Ain't The First!'" _

Minnie. Minerva. That  _ bitch _ \--

He suddenly drew a blank. Minerva...who was she? A fuzzy memory...as if he really did go to that bender that lasted an hour...

He couldn't remember anything about her, save her name! And even then, he couldn't recall details...

_ A total blank! _

"Dammit!" He struck the steering wheel angrily and uprighted his seat. Starting over the engine, he shifted into drive and peeled off the shoulder back to the precinct.

***

Autobot City

Stormrave glanced momentarily at the black femme standing next to her, her ice blue optics staring at the waxing moon.

"Anxious to get home?" the jet questioned, attempting to make conversation. Artemis chuckled somewhat, shaking her head.

"Stormrave, I don't have much of a home anywhere," she remarked softly. "Cybertron least of all."

The red and grey Autobot's expression grew stoic.

"Is that what you choose?" she whispered somewhat.

"I'm not one to really stay in one place for any amount of time. It's just my nature. Why...you seem a little..."

"I'd rather not talk about it here," Stormrave retorted sharply.

"Of course not," Artemis nodded slightly, then, under her breath, added, "I'm not going to enjoy the trip there, I can tell you that much."

"I take it Zodiac's been telling you stories about me, then." The jet's mood improved somewhat, but there was something lying underneath still.

"Nothing about you. More like Skyfire. We were friends before the Great War."

"Why not now?"

"I don't know...our personalities clash too much, I suppose. He just seems a little more...hmmm...guarded, than what I remembered him to be."

"Time changes people, from what I've learned."

"An important lesson, indeed. And I think it's changed me more than him." With a slight one-shouldered shrug, Artemis smiled.

"Not to sound nosy or anything," the jet coughed, "but for someone surrounded by those who up until twenty solar cycles ago were your enemies, you seem a bit upbeat about your situation."

"A useful tidbit of information told to me by a friend of mine back at Four Winds...'smile, if confuses the hell out of everyone.'" With a wink, Artemis then nodded towards the gate. "Looks like our ride's coming."

Skyfire joined the two, towering over them as he smiled warmly.

I  _ wonder how he truly feels,  _ Artemis pondered.  _ He knew that, up till three weeks ago, I was a Decepticon, and Stormy here looks like a Seeker...I wonder if he's uneasy with the situation. _

"We're cleared to leave," the transport exclaimed. "Whenever you're ready-"

"-as soon as possible, then," Artemis retorted, hiking up the strap to her dataport. "The faster we can get this over with, the sooner I can return to my research."

"What are you researching, exactly, if you don't mind me asking?" Skyfire questioned, transforming into jet mode.

"Vectoring known Quintesson sightings, base of operations, that sort of thing. I don't trust Unicron's message, so I'm doing the figuring outs myself."

"Unicron's message?" Stormrave demanded as the two boarded.

"Unicron is having a little fun with the Autobots and Decepticons. In exchange for the remedy for the virus, he'll let us know the Quintessons scheme. Personally, I've known too many people with too many schemes to fall for that little ploy, so I'm going to search for the answer myself. That's why I've been talking to Kup and Rod lately. If they can continue deciphering the virus, I'll use what I know to get some answers out of old friends of mine, who hear anything and everything."

"Indeed," Skyfire retorted softly, though he did not say any more of the subject as he prepared his engines and began taxiing down the runway. Artemis instantly closed her optics and gritted her teeth, resting her head against the warm living metal of Skyfire's hold.

Stormrave chuckled. "Not much for flying, are you, grounder?"

"It's not the flying that bothers me," she grimaced.

"It's the heights," Skyfire added through his internal speakers. "Artemis, I would have thought by now-"

"Right. I have about as much luck outgrowing that as Megatron was using his head for anything other than ramming it into a wall."

"You don't like heights," Stormrave smirked.

"I hate them, abhor them, loathe them, despise them-"

"-and yet you spent most of your time with fliers," the transport pointed out.

"Strangely enough," Artemis retorted, deadpan. "I must have something for hotheaded, egotistical showoff fliers...must be the wings."

"Do I want to know?" the femme jet chuckled. "Anyway, how can one be afraid of heights? That wasn't a stupid question, was it?"

"Skyfire already knows why. Might as well tell you...I think I like you enough." Sitting back up, Artemis finally opened her optics. "Just before my first upgrade, I was the victim to one of Skywarp's practical jokes. He wasn't out to hurt anyone, really...just didn't realise how solidly I was built." She chortled somewhat, though ruefully. "He was just getting the handle of his teleport, and, to make a long story short-"

"-He 'ported five kilometers above Cybertron with her," Skyfire finished when the black femme hestitated somewhat, "and lost his grip."

"An accident, really. It was before anyone knew the difference between 'Autobot' and 'Decepticon,'" Artemis nodded slightly. "We usually met over at the Ridge...you know, between Iacon and Polyhex. Picked on each other, for the most part, though my Autobot friends never wanted to take part in the roughhousing." She snickered again. "But anyway, that's probably the reason why I hate heights. No matter what anyone tried to do to get rid of it-I've done everything from operant conditioning to actually going inside my core processor-nothing. It might have to do with my actual spark itself. Embedded."

"Not really a good fear to have, taking into consideration your old buddies were for the most part all fliers," Stormrave suggested.

"Yeah, but it made them underestimate me at first." She sat back again, her hands laced behind her head and her knee crossed over the other. "Anyway, Autobots weren't built for flight, unless their function was transport. The Decepticons needed the flight capabilities due to the fact that they were originally defenders of Cybertron." Her brow suddenly furrowed. "Then Megatron changed them."

"That makes sense," Skyfire struck an epiphany. "Something of Megatron's caliber would be just enough to have turned Starscream against me...away from his science."

“Megatron's caliber, indeed. You and I both knew Starscream had ambition to begin with, Skyfire. It only took the right words from Megatron to get his head full of ideas." Artemis sighed sadly, closing her optics once more.

Internally, however, as Stormrave mulled over what she and Skyfire had discussed, Artemis smiled. Perhaps she did have a chance to win back her lost friend. And this jet...Stormrave seemed to be listening openly. She was Autobot, yes, but she seemed more open-minded about what Artemis had spoken about. She didn't point out what she had been told by the Autobot elders, nor did she even question their past friendship with Starscream. 

She would still have to take things slowly, however. As much as Jetfire and Stormrave seemed open to listen to her own, more subtle, manipulation, she couldn't risk revealing the scheme to them yet. The two were to accompany her to Four Winds; if anywhere, she would inform them of a revolt planned by the Decepticons she had conveniently learned from her overhearing of the Combaticons. To let them know that this was indeed cooked up by herself in Starscream's stead...using her subtle suggestions to manipulate and persuade the old Decepticons just as she was now with the Autobots...no. She would wait even longer before that ever happened, perhaps even after she took care of Galvatron once and for all.

(revenge, in other words,) her conscience, in the voice of her old friend Optimus Prime, whispered distastefully.

_ Revenge...?  _ Partially. But to get rid of Galvatron would benefit both Autobots and Decepticons. It might bring them together, even. Especially when the Quintessons are concerned at this point.

(but ultimately, the revenge factor is still there. You can't fool everyone for long. Skyfire, as naive as he seems, knows you too well to assume that you are striking at Galvatron only for the good of Cybertron. He will make the connection between you and Starscream.) 

She scowled slightly. As much as she hated to listen to that goodie-two-shoe side, it was correct. 

(but,) the voice changed suddenly to Starscream's nails-against-metal shrill. She only took a quick click to realise that it wasn't the real Starscream. (naive as he is, he still holds friendship in the highest regard. you wouldn't have made it this far in your schemes had you lacked the tact you wove into your manipulation. behold! he listens to you in trust. you could tell him Galvatron was working through Rodimus Prime and if he didn't believe you, he would at least investigate.)

_ Then what about Stormrave?  _ She demanded silently, sourly.

The two voices were silent.

Waiting is now an option. Her patience, where not infinite, was longer than most.

"Art," Skyfire broke her train of thought. "We're out of Earth's gravitation field. We'll be arriving at the warpgate in approximately one megacycle."

"Thanks, Skyfire," Artemis opened her optics, finding Stormrave staring at a dataport of smaller design than the one hanging from the mercenary's shoulder.

Not much longer, she smiled somewhat.

But the question was, to what?

***

North American Intragalactic Spaceport, Northwest

Portland, Oregon

"Let's see the bright side of this," Luke grumbled as he stood beside Minerva, leaning on the Roadrunner's trunk. "I get off planet. Downside: my backpack's missing. In other words, my life." He exhaled sharply. "I'm really beginning to hate my life."

"My, aren't we a bit pessimistic." The woman stared up into the night sky. Above, blinking landing lights from a transport cruised to touchdown. "Ah...there's my baby."

"Your...baby?" The green-eyed man stared at the battered Sirian transport. Outward, it looked like it had seen its fair share of battles; the hull seemed barely space-worthy, with uneven sodder filling cracks in the metal. Paint peeled from the narrow wings, and the engine belched oily smoke from the exhaust port. Minerva nodded proudly, pushing away from her car.

"You know how to drive, kid?" she demanded, tossing him the keys. "It's got a heavy clutch."

"'Clutch?'"

"Yeah, you know, that pedal to the far left?"

"'Um...I don't know how to drive manual transmission..."

Minerva stared at him as though he had grown a second head.

"You poor soul," she shook her head sadly. "Oh, well, no time like the present to learn. Clutch, look at the diagram on the shifter, push it to first, release the clutch and press down on the gas gently at the same time."

Okay..."

Minerva winked, then ran up the boarding ramp into the cargo hold of the ship.

"Wonderful," Luke grumbled, sliding into the driver's seat and stared down at the three pedals on the floor. "I never drove a stick in my life..."

Minerva's mind was elsewhere as she ventured out of the cargo hold into the cockpit. Her optics furrowed somewhat as she noted a pair of translucent insect wings sticking from either side of the pilot's chair, obscuring the rest of the person.

"Where's Drez, babe?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

The wings shivered excitedly as the pilot spun around in the chair, revealing an insectoid robot, its multifaceted optics glinting from the control panel lights.

"Bossbot had previous engagement," the insect retorted, a high-pitched buzz undertoning his voice. "Elder wife's birthday."

"Of course," Minvera smirked, rolling her eyes. "Well, mission is a success, at least this part. How are the weapon systems?"

"Nominal." His antennae twitched. "Waspinator and Minniebot expecting...trouble?" His voice climbed in tone, metamorphosing into a whimper.

"Nebulons, Waspy. And Sidhe." The woman slipped into the gunner seat and ran a system diagnostic. "Not only that, the Quints are rearing their ugly heads, but our priority is the kid. Leave the Quints to Ritterkruez and the other Cybertronians. They can handle them."

"Affirmative. Beast mode." Waspinator folded in on himself, now resembling more of a large green and gold insect. "Waspinator check hold. Minniebot do preflight?"

"Sounds like a plan, Waspy. Just don't scare the kid."

Waspinator zipped overhead, hovering just above Minerva's head. Looking down at her, he muttered, "When did Waspinator ever instill fear in anyone? Most Waspinator ever instilled was comic relief for Predacons and Maximals..." His antennae drooped even further. Minerva smiled, patting his head.

"Don't let it get to you, Waspy...we still love you."

Waspinator's features brightened as he buzzed out of the cockpit and into the hold, where he was blinded by a pair of high beam headlights.

One second, he was the happiest robotic organism in the galaxy.

Now he had that gut feeling he had witnessed so many times before.

"Waspinator sense much damage," he mewed as the sound of smoking tires struck his auditory sensors just before he collided with the Roadrunner's windshield.

"Holy shit!" Luke jumped out of the car, allowing the engine to die on its own. "Dude, you okay? Man, I didn't even see you...shit...um...what are you?"

The robot insect peeled his face from the glass and regarded Luke with a pained look.

"Luke MacArin, Waspinator presumes," he whimpered in agony.

"Correct in that assumption...and who are you?" the young man demanded, helping the robot wasp peel himself from the windshield.

"Waspinator is...nnnn..." The green and gold robot whimpered, his mandibles quaking. "Waspinator temporally displaced somewhat. Minniebot and doggybossbot give Waspinator place to stay before Waspinator can return home."

"Temporally displaced? How?" Swiftly, Luke began repairing the bug's wings and loose legs as easily as putting together a Legos playset. 

"Waspinator from future, but went back in past. Dragonbot-before he was dragonbot-tricked Waspinator. Promised Waspinator glory, fame, respect...but all Waspinator got was blown up. Then dragonbot leave Waspinator with fleshiebots who worshipped Waspinator, but Waspinator did something to tick them off and they chased Waspinator away and Waspinator wanted to go home but couldn't, so Waspinator stuck." Taking a deep exhale of breath, the wasp twitched his wings, then went airborne, zipping over to the hold controls and closing the airlock. "Until weird rift opened. Waspinator flew through, and found himself in big fleshiebot city. That twenty years ago. Waspinator totally lost then, until Minniebot found Waspinator. Minniebot took Waspinator in and gave Waspinator a home on Sirius II...Waspinator do work as bus bot in kitchen, but at least now Waspinator appreciated, don't get blown up, and got girlfriend too..." Shrugging, or rather, as close to a shrug as an insect could get, Waspinator led Luke into the cockpit, where Minerva was still at her console. "Waspinator's life way better now, but Waspinator still miss home."

"Why can't you go home?" Luke asked softly. The first part of Waspinator's history was a blur; Luke barely understood half of it. 

"Waspinator may cause abnormality in timestreem if Waspinator return to Cybertron," he whispered. "Waspinator built Predacon; Predacons not been built for another two and half centuries. If Decepticons and Autobots find Waspinator...nnn-AAAAAAAIIIIIII!"

Waspinator's sudden scream started both Luke and Minerva.

"Babe, what's wrong?" Minerva jumped out of her seat, pulling a large caliber Howitzer from under the seat.

The wasp buzzed sharply, flying behind her control panel, hiding with the exception of his wings quivering nervously.

"Waspy?" the blonde woman peeked over the panel. "What's wrong?"

"Is he always that nervous?" Luke questioned.

"Sometimes, but not that bad, only when Starscream used to come into the bar. But that was ages ago. Waspy, please...tell me what's wrong?"

"Well, it can't be his ghost," Luke shrugged. "Dude disappeared when we got here."

"Noooo..." Waspinator shot upwards, flying in circles. "Waspinator sense ghostbot...ghostbot near...Waspinator's spark feels it..."

"Easy, Waspy...he won't hurt you..." Minerva cooed. "He's only a ghost...he can't do anything to you."

"Possessed me!" Waspinator cried out. "Made me attack other Predacons! Reprogrammed! Made me protect prettykittybot!" Waspinator suddenly blinked. "Actually, Waspinator didn't really mind that part..."

"Ohhhh...kay..." Luke blinked a couple of times. "Is this one of those temporal things we're not supposed to get?"

"From what I gathered from Waspy, apparently Starscream's ghost from the future followed them to prehistoric earth-"

"Followed prettykittybot!" Waspinator corrected, hovering next to Minerva. She placed a hand on his head, almost protectively, as he relaxed, whirring happily.

"-Anyway, apparently, our favourite dead Air Commander decided to gather his own army, and used Waspinator to do so..."

"Possessed Waspinator...made Waspinator do stuff he didn't want to do...then prettyspiderbot blew me up and ghostbot left." His multifaceted optics saddened. "Waspinator thought last he saw of Ghostbot. Ghostbot put program in Waspinator, safeguard. Prettykittybot activated it, but not her fault. She didn't know." His antennae quivered violently.

"It's gonna be okay, Waspy," Minerva soothed. "Starscream can't do anything to you now."

"Minniebot...promise?" Waspinator looked up at her with a trusting, naive innocence to his optics.

"Of course, baby. Now let's get everything ready to go home, okay?"

"Waspinator comply," the wasp nodded, flying over to the pilot's seat. "Lukiebot take communication seat?"

"Um...sure," Luke replied, slipping into the seat.

"I'm gonna lock up the car. I'll be right back." She stood, stretching. "In the meantime, Waspy, can you inform Control we're leaving?"

"Waspinator comply," he repeated. "Waspinator, terrorizzze!"

With that, the wasp split apart into his robot mode, landing heavily in his seat.

"So you're a Cybertronian?" Luke questioned.

"Affirmative," the Predacon answered.

"And you're from the future?"

"Affirmative."

"Then how come you're not, like, twenty feet tall or something?"

"Lukie-bot ask a lot of questions," Waspinator commented. "Predacons and Maximals built for energy saving. Autobots and Decepticons not fuel efficient."

"I see..."

"Good...now, will Lukie-bot let Waspinator do his job?"

"Sure..." The boy slouched in his chair, studying the console in front of him, written in what looked like claw marks scratched into the glass.

"Starport Command, this is Sirian Transport  _ Larksong _ ...permission to take off?"

_ "Permission denied, _ Larksong _ ," _ A husky-sounding man retorted through the speakers.  _ "We're picking up activity in the outer atmosphere. We have to isolate and identify before we can allow any departures or landings. You're looking at an hour to two hour delay." _

Waspinator's optics narrowed, his mandibles twitched irritably.

" _ Larksong _ comply.  _ Larksong _ out." the wasp flipped off the switch. "Glitch. Waspinator had too much to do back in kitchen. Why Waspinator have to be stuck with slag jobs?"

"Car's locked down," Minerva returned shortly. "So are we ready to leave?"

"Negative. Spaceport say unknown activity in outer atmosphere. Can't leave until they identify." Under his breath, Waspinator added, "Fleshiebots couldn't identify own interface units with both hands and an instruction manual." 

Luke gave a short laugh as the woman jumped onto her gunner station and brought up a three-d schematic that appeared to be a cross-section of Earth's atmosphere. Three blips lit up over the Northeastern United States.

"Shit...too organised to be natural," she grumbled. "Waspy, hack into the US Department of Defense and see if they've got some sort of visual."

"Affirmative." Nimbly, Waspinator worked at the controls, bringing up his own three-d screen. "Waspinator hitting firewall of unknown origin. Fleshiebots upgraded since last been hacked."

"Leave it to me," Luke suddenly interjected, staring at the controls. Different written language, yes, but one thing remained constant. Mathematics was a universal language, and any computer program could be ultimately broken down into binary. If he could only manage to figure out how download that information-

There was a sudden snap in the front of his brain as data seemed to stream from the datatracks in the  _ Shrike's Cry  _ directly into his mind...how to read the Sirian language, how the console worked, how to fly the ship, everything down to the password to Waspinator's email. Instantly, his own screen came up. Without even touching the console, he broke the firewall of the Defense computer and brought up a detailed schematic of three streamline ships cruising above New York State.

Minerva and Waspinator both stared at the young man as he worked; however, it was the female whose eyes widened when she realised what exactly had entered Earth's atmosphere.

"Waspinator, boot up the engines! Those are Nebulons! Luke, fasten your seat belt, we're gonna go emergency jump!"

"Waspinator is having really shitty day," the wasp whined, snapping his own harness in place. "First Waspinator drop favourite Star Trek watch in toilet, then Ghostbot come back, now Nebulons, what next?"

"Waspy, you don't own a Star Trek watch," Minerva stated, bringing her outer weapons online.

"Waspinator apologize; it was Minniebot's watch."

The blonde blinked, then growled somewhat.

"We'll talk about it later. Go to jump!"

"But we never jumped at full stop!" Waspinator whined.

"Do it!" Minerva ordered sharply, baring fang that was too long to be a human canine.

"Eep! Waspinator comply!" he mewed, flipping a couple of switches and taking hold of the steering mechanism, pulling up sharply. The  _ Shrike's Cry  _ lurked upward at an alarming rate, jarring Luke into the depths of his seat.

"Larksong _ , you are in violation of a direct order! Return to the port immediately!" _

"Minniebot?" Waspinator demanded meekly.

"Keep going, Waspy!" she shouted. "If those bastards get to us, we're almost as good as dead!"

"Waspinator comply!"

"Good! Full throttle skybound! Luke, what's the position of those Nebs, and their ETA to us?"

"They're over Detroit now! I give them another ten minutes, max!" Adrenaline gave Luke new strength, feeling at last part of something big, something exciting.

"Waspy, get us the hell outta here!" Minerva ordered.

"Waspinator comply with all his spark!" the green and gold Predacon chortled, pulling down a lever next to his seat, forcing all three to sink into their padded seats as the indigo sky blackened even more, the stars ceasing their twinkling...

Luke glanced over at his screen with a curse.

"They're in pursuit!" he shouted.

"Dammit!" Minerva cursed. "Bring up warp and be prepared to burst!" She slammed her fist into a button on her console, bringing down a gun site from above her head.

"And to think this morning, I thought it was going to be a normal day," Luke chuckled ruefully. "Damn, those dudes close in fast..."

"Shit shit shit shit shit! Waspinator, evasive action!"

"Waspinator CAN'T do both!" the wasp buzzed shortly.

"Yes, Waspinator can! Waspinator has to!" she barked. "I've got visual!"

"Glitch!"

"We've got more incoming!" Luke shouted as three more blips showed up on his screen. "They're EDC!"

"Shit, our cover's blown!" Minerva flipped a couple more switches. Luke sensed a shiver in the ship as the holographic disguise dropped, revealing a much sleeker battle cruiser, gunmetal with blue trim. " _ Shrike's Cry _ , all systems online!"

"Warp engine online!" Waspinator confirmed. "Emergency jump in two cycles!"

"In the meantime, let's show those Nebs not to screw with the Four Winds!" Minerva concentrated on the gun scope before her, six views giving her a panoramic picture around the ship. Her hands placed gently on the touchpad as a pianist on the ivories, awaiting to play a symphony. "A little battle music,  _ sil vous plait _ ."

"Affirmative!" The Predacon hooted, taking one hand from the steering and reaching underneath his beast head, pulling out a compact disc. Swiftly, he inserted it into a drive above his head and pressed a series of buttons. Almost deafeningly, the operatic "One Winged Angel" from the Final Fantasy VII game began, the timpanies and horns in their militant march.

"I was hoping for something a little more metal, but this will do!" Minerva chortled. "Waspy, hard left! Give me a tight pitch, but keep some distance between us and the Nebs!"

"Affirmative!" The nose of the swung left, maintaining a level as the six incoming ships came into view. 

A few laser blasts strafed across  _ Shrike's Cry _ 's flank, deflecting upwards. Both EDC and the Nebulon ships-easily to tell apart, the EDC's blue and green trim on boxy versions of the space planes developed by NASA, and the red and grey of the much sleeker, space black Nebulon warships-were exchanging laser fire with one another as well as the Sirian battle cruiser.

Minnie's hands flew across the board as her gaze remained on the gun sights. "What's the situation on the warp, Waspy!" she cried over the music.

"Thirty clicks!" Waspinator stated. "Twenty-nine! Twenty-eight!"

Luke sucked in a breath, his eyes wide at the situation outside. Earth was below them, a blue and white orb with the sun cresting above Australia and Japan. For an instant, he was washed over with a sense of insignificance.

Which dissipated quickly as another bolt scored a direct hit to the right wing.

"Glitch!" Waspinator snarled, cranking his wheel as he thrusted downward. The  _ Shrike's Cry  _ yawed nose first, rolling to put it's shielded roof to the attackers. "Fifteen! Fourteen!"

"Begin routing the warp, Waspy!" Minnie continued her symphony assault, firing a barrage of laser fire. "Looks like the EDC's breaking pursuit!"

"But not the Nebs!" Luke cried out, gasping somewhat in excitement.

"Their missiles are cycling! We can't warp with shields!" she exclaimed.

"Ten! Nine! Waspinator's life sucks! Six! Five!"

"Interceptors online!" she barked, flipping more switches. The gun sight suddenly split apart, bringing up a seventh screen, this one reading infrared. A joystick of some sorts rose from the console. Gripping it, Minerva's grey eyes locked onto the screen, aiming the crosshairs at the pursuing ships.

"Three! Two!"

The Nebulon ships launched off at least six projectiles just as Waspinator lit the warp engines, flinging the ship into a rift that suddenly appeared in front of them. The three sentients were pushed deeper into their seats, Minerva fighting to keep her sights locked on the missiles. "Waspinator! Full evasive as soon as we get out of warp!"

"Affirmative!" the Predacon cried, his hands gripped tightly to his station.

The pressure instantly returned to normal as the stars suddenly shifted in front of Luke's eyes. He blinked, shaking his head, as suddenly, Waspinator brought the ship into a hard left with an upward yaw.

"Nebs still in pursuit! Waspy, radio Darxtar and tell him we require some backup!"

"Affirmative!" 

Regaining her equilibrium, she locked back on to the missiles and touched off her own interceptor missiles. Launching two at a time, she cursed at the slowness of the barrel cycling.

"Luke, get the shields up!" she barked. Luke nodded, staring at the console with his eyes narrowed. There was another click within his brain, and a bluish tinge suddenly surrounded  _ Shrike's Cry _ .

" _ Shrike's Cry _ to Four Winds! Require backup! Nebulons in pursuit! Can't shake! HELP!" Waspinator whined.

"Shrike's Cry,  _ this is Darxtar! We're sending what we can spare! Drez is on his way with  _ Gatecrash!"

"It's so great to have an understanding and supportive boss, eh, Waspy?"

"Waspinator is busy doing evasive maneuvers, Minniebot!"

"Good boy!"

"What's Gatecrash?" Luke questioned as the three Nebulon ships broke formation. "Shit! I lost sight of one of them!"

"Dammit!" Minerva cycled up her own concussion missiles and launched two towards the incoming bogie. "I hate to resort to this, but we've got no choice!"

There was a blinding explosion-though eerily, with the exception of the climatic ending to "One Winged Angel", no sound was produced-as the Nebulon fighter in front of them failed to roll at the last second.

"Luke, find the other fighters! Waspy, put something a little more upbeat!"

"Affirmative!" Waspinator struck the track button a couple of times, then returned to his piloting as the telltale drums and guitar rifts of "Immigrant Song" by Led Zeppelin thundered through the speakers.

"Bogie at four o' clock! Bearing zero-zero-two!" Luke shouted, reading the coordinates that appeared on his screen.

"Good boy!" Minerva located, locked, and fired two more concussions at the visible Nebulon fighter. As that one went up in a violent but silent fury, she then cried out "The last one! Luke, where's the last one of those bastards?"

"I can't pinpoint it!"

"Shit! Keep looking! Waspinator! Are you picking up Tailgate?"

"Negative. They haven't come into sensor range."

"Dammit!" The woman studied her views. "Dammit dammit dammit! Where the hell are you?"

Abruptly, one by one,  _ Shrike's Cry _ 's systems booted down, first the radio, then engines and propulsion, gunner station, sensors, until only life support and gravitation fields remained on.

"Shit," Minerva snarled, unsnapping her harness and jumping to her feet, the Howitzer from earlier in one hand. "I think we found the assholes."

"Dead in the water," Waspinator whimpered, standing as well, pulling his own pistol out from an unseen sheathe. "Waspinator not like that..."

"Luke, stay here. We're gonna manually lock the door. If anyone tries to get in, there's a conventional pistol under your seat...or is it the crossbow? One or the other. Come on, Waspy."

"Sounds like a plan," Luke whispered. "You want me to try to get the systems back on?"

"You can try...but don't do anything until I tell you to!" With an ear pressed against the door, she nodded to Waspinator and forced it open. The robot stepped out into the hold, his multi-faceted optics scanning the area as Minerva joined him outside the cockpit. Deftly, she slid the door closed and pulled down a magnetic bar, locking it securely.

"Waspinator sees nothing," the wasp buzzed quietly.

"Same here..." Quietly, with a sidestep, she crept to the Roadrunner in the middle of the hold and eased open the door, taking out her sword. Shaking off the sheathe, her human guise melted away as she held the large claymore one-handed, giving the appearance of it being grossly off-balanced.

There was a slight hiss from the airlock beyond.

"Shit...we're being boarded," the draconian cursed.

Waspinator's antennae drooped, readying a barb for firing.

The two stayed behind the car, both breathing somewhat shallowly as they awaited to see what was behind the other compartment. Waspinator's mandibles quivered, a slight clicking that was undetectable from the slight creaking of the dead ship floating in space. Minerva's grey eyes stared straight ahead, narrowed.

The airlock doors slid apart, and three figures marched out in full armour of some sorts, appearing more early Dark Ages with more futuristic modifications. They appeared unarmed.

"Sir," the one on the right addressed the middle figure. "I am detecting one mechanoid nearby."

Waspinator  _ eep _ ed quietly, ducking his head as his antennae and mandibles trembled in fear.

"Very well then," the center person, obviously the leader, nodded curtly. "We shall deal with these lower lifeforms quickly, and take the boy back to Nebulos."

"Shit, they even sound like stereotypical villains from an old '80s cartoon show," Minerva hissed, leaping into the air and landing on the roof of her car, her sword pointed towards the Nebulons. "Hey, boys. Hate to break it to you, but this is a private party."

"For which we have invitations, I assure you, whatever you are," the leader smiled. In the dim lighting from the emergency lamps, it was difficult to actually see any solid features save that the boarders were the size of well-built human males, standing nearly six and a half-feet tall. From experience, Minerva knew the Nebulons as beings with a rare ability to produce melanistic chlorophyll, which explained their green hues. Later, she would actually ponder how a race which evolved from plant-like creatures ever became one as mechanically inclined without becoming a mechanoid race itself.

At the moment, however, Minerva rolled her eyes with a groan.

"My god! Cobra Commander had better lines than you!" she chided. "Let me put it to you in a simpler way for you to understand. Get lost."

"Hand over the boy and no harm will come to you or your mechanical servant."

"Over my dead body," the draconian woman snarled, slashing out her sword to a lunge position. "I was hired to get the boy to safety from the likes of you."

Waspinator's trembling at the point morphed from fear to anger.

"Waspinator no one's servant! Waspinator chooses to help Minniebot! Waspinator his own person!" He cried out, taking to the air and firing off a volley of barbs towards the three Nebulons.

"My lord!" the one on the left dove, shoving the leader out of the way as he took three of the barbs to his shoulder and back. The other guard jumped out of the way, locking gazes with the flying Predacon.

"Damn, I expected that!" Minerva chortled, crouching and almost shoving off when she listened to Waspinator's suddenly strangled whimper as he crashed to the ground.

"My dear mercenary," the Nebulon lord stood, pushing the dying guard from her person. "You must understand why we have no need to carry weapons." With a wave, he stepped once towards them. "If you kill me, your simpleton friend's core processor will be wiped. Hand over the boy, and no harm will come towards either one of you."

"Waspy...?" she hissed, just as the wasp Transformer stood jerkingly, optics seemingly blank.

"He is under my control," the leader explained. "He will do everything I tell him to, including killing you. Waspinator, stand guard."

The Predacon did nothing, only stood there, a dead, zombie-like state.

"Waspinator, I give you a direct order. Obey it."

The robot's mandibles suddenly twitched. For an instant, it almost looked like he was...smirking?

"Waspinator!" Both the Nebulon leader and Minerva snapped.

"Self preservation program, activated." A shrill, all-too-familiar voice to Minerva emitted from Waspinator's mouth as Waspinator stood rigid, firing at the second guard before leveling the pistol at the leader's head.

"Starscream?" Minerva hissed, her optics narrowed.

"Not quite." To the remaining Nebulon, Waspinator cracked another, more noticable smirk. "This program is designed to protect this shell until its mission is complete. It gives Waspinator failsafes against your control, Nebulon. I give you two choices: leave me to complete my mission, or die."

"You frighten me not, program," the Nebulon sneered. "Eventually, I'll find how you work, how you function, and I will hack you, destroy you...and Waspinator as well."

"Promises, promises." Waspinator fired another barb between the adversary's eyes, then turned coolly to Minerva, who was still expressing a state of shock. "Come on, Ryder. We've got a delivery to make."

A laser blast suddenly rocked the ship, sending both sentients staggering.

"Wonderful," Minerva growled. "Thanks, Starscream. I was trying to be diplomatic."

"Technically, I'm not Starscream," Waspinator snarled, picking up the woman and half-dragging her back to the cockpit. "Luke! Bring all weapons online and fire at will!"

"Starscream?" the muffled voice questioned.

"I'll explain on the way! Just get weapons online, then engines! Ryder, open this door at once!"

"For someone who claims not to be Starscream, you're sure acting like him," the draconian snapped, forcing open the door.

"Do not toy with me, Ryder. I know what is going to happen. And unless you wish to cause a paradox and destroy all of the multiverse, you will listen to me."

"And what makes you think that if I listen to you-"

"We don't have the time for this!" he shrieked, shoving the woman into the bridge. "Get on gunner. I'll take the helm."

"So that's what Waspinator meant," Luke whispered.

"Correct, Luke," Waspinator nodded. "I am, technically, still Waspinator. However, when Starscream initially possessed me three hundred years in the future-though it was in fact two million years in the past-he left behind a failsafe program, so that if he could not complete his plans, then I would carry on in his stead."

"Guns online!" Luke barked suddenly. Minerva, once again in her human guise, whooped, pulling down the gunsite and scanning once more for the other ship. Another blast swayed the  _ Shrike's Cry _ violently. 

"Damn!" Waspinator took hold of the steering and booted up the engines. "Luke, I need all available power to engines, right now!"

"Why would Starscream help us, then?" Minerva demanded bluntly as she opened fired on the now-locked-on command ship.

"A common goal, of course, as well as a future that benefits me. And a deal," Waspinator glared at Luke. "Galvatron will fall by extensions of my hand-"

"So Art's little rebellion will pull through," Minerva stated.

"Of course. Even in my simpleton mode, I could have told you that. However, even though my Predacon takeover was thwarted, I still was the only Predacon to have survived the Beast Wars, free to do as I wished. And now I'm here." As he talked, a few more switches were thrown as he took hold of the steering, banking sharply on the yaw axis. "Looks like the cavalry has arrived." With a slight nod to his right, he indicated the small slivers of metal racing towards their location.

"Gatecrash!" Minerva shouted. 'It's about time!"

"A little too late, I would say," Waspinator smirked. "It seems we had gained the upper hand when that idiot Nebulon tried controlling me."

"So, if Waspinator you are, indeed, do you mind switching back to his more charming personality, please?" Minerva questioned. "Simple it may be, I can trust it more than I trust one Starscream programmed."

"I'm hurt, Ryder. Really, I am." There was an abrupt power-down sequence, and Waspinator slouched in his chair. A whirling sound, then his optics came back online. "Waspinator hates when Waspinator does that. Waspinator apologize to Minniebot and Lukiebot."

"That was weird," Luke stated.

"Shrike's Cry,  _ this is Gatecrash,"  _ the gruff, no-nonsense voice of Drez called out on the intercom.  _ "What's your situation?" _

"Gatecrash, we have three dead Nebs in our hold, two hunks of metal that used to be Neb ships, and one more that's giving us a hard time," Minerva retorted. "I'm having difficulty locking onto it!"

_ "Affirmative. Ravenwing has it sighted and is in pursuit.” _

"Careful, old wolf! Those bastards shut down this ship! No telling what they would do with the suits!"

_ "Noted, Minnie. We'll take care of it. You just get the kid back to base and the busboy back into the kitchen." _

"Will do!  _ Shrike's Cry _ , out!" To Waspinator, she ordered, "Take us home, babe! And I don't wanna hear that damned program again!" 

"Waspinator happily comply!" the wasp chirped, bringing the engines to full throttle and set an automated course for Sirius II.

Flipping her own radio switch, she then hailed Four Winds. "Darxtar,  _ Shrike's Cry  _ coming home, with some damage. Get the garage bay ready. On that note, better have the back room booked for two solar cycles' time. Big meeting, if you catch my drift."

_ "Gotcha, Minnie. Will have everything ready for you when you get back. Four Winds out." _

"Luke, is the Neb cruiser following?" she then asked.

"Nope. Looks like your buddies are taking care of them quite easily." Luke turned in his seat to face her. "What are those ships they're flying?"

"They're mobile suits called transtectors. Based on the Cybertronian transformation technology. Single-operator controls, no intelligence of their own. They're mass-produced on Sirius for the government, but of course, with Drez's connections, he was able to get a whole slew of them for 'police' use around Four Winds property. Gatecrash mostly fly suits made for short space fighting.  _ Vengeance _ must be around somewhere."

" _ Vengeance? _ " Luke questioned.

"It's the transtector launch ship. Operated by Drez's youngest wife, Trin, probably the best pilot from Sirius." Minerva leaned back in her seat, though her eyes never leaving the view screen. "Waspy, about that program...could you tell us more about it, and why Starscream left it there, in your own words?"

"From that Ghostbot tell Waspinator, Ghostbot needed shell to work through. Used Waspinator's shell. Waspinator found out about program when antbot attack prettykittybot...Waspinator felt compelled to aid prettykittybot."

"From what I can tell, 'Prettykittybot' is Artemis, or some aspect of her," Minerva interjected. "I never knew what the hell was between those two. If they weren't trying to kill each other, they were making out in the back corner of the bar."

"Ah, so she was his girlfriend!" Luke smirked.

"Both would deny it," the woman chuckled. "I think it was more of a mutual pact. Considering the fact of Art's one damning trait is that she's blindingly loyal to Starscream-"

"And she's an Autobot?" Luke blinked. "How the hell does that happen?"

"They knew each other before the Wars on Cybertron," Minerva explained. "And though she was built Autobot, she sided with the Decepticons, at least until she found out Megatron wasn't after bringing Cybertron together. So she went freelance. Stuck around Darxtar's establishment, an Old Port Polyhex-based bar where she hired on as a mercenary. Enough backstory. Waspy, continue."

"Prettykittybot still loyal to Ghostbot." His antennae sagged again. "But...prettykittybot nice to Waspinator. Not slag him when had chance. Waspinator confused by prettykittybot."

"A bit hung up on this prettykittybot, eh, Waspy?" Luke chuckled. "She must have been some looker."

"Knowing Art?" Minerva chuckled. "She stops bar brawls just by walking up to the counter and ordering a beer. You don't need to be Cybertronian to know she's a hot number, Autobot or Decepticon."

"Artybot look even better when Prime," Waspinator pointed out, then  _ eep _ ed.

Minerva stared at her green and gold companion, blinked, and shook her head.

"I'm not even gonna ask how that happened. Probably for a cheap upgrade, knowing her."

"Erm...Waspinator said too much."

"Waspy is under a code of temporal silence," Minerva illustrated for Luke. "Unless he is talking to Drez, me, Darxtar, or any other higher-up member of Four Winds, he can't say anything that would jeopardize time and space as we know it."

"I see," the red-haired man nodded slowly.

"So, back to the program, Waspy."

"Waspinator confused about this part. Ghostbot told Waspinator that Waspinator tells Ghostbot what happens, and Ghostbot goes back and tells Waspinator. That all Waspinator understands. That's what program's main mission." the wasp's mandibles quivered again. "Waspinator not totally understand."

"Endless cycle. Waspinator, what was the last thing you remember about the Beast Wars?"

"'Beast Wars?'" Luke questioned.

"It was the war that Waspinator and the other Predacons fought. Though it was in the future, per se, they actually fought it in the past due to the new transwarp technology they're working on now."

"Maximals won. Other Predacons destroyed. Dragonbot taken back to Cybertron to face charges. Waspinator left behind."

"So the good guys won," Luke pointed out, "but it's going according to Starscream's plan?"

"Affirmative," Waspinator nodded. "Crabbot a threat to Ghostbot's existence."

"New character introduced," Minerva warned. "Who's Crabbot, Waspy?"

"Crabbot scary," Waspinator whispered, almost terrified to be speaking of such. "Maximals tried to make another Ghostbot spark. Failed. Created Crabbot. Crabbot make Ghostbot look like Autobot. Ghostbot not twisted like Crabbot."

"Okay, Crabbot bad. Got it." Luke exclaimed.

"Continue, Waspy."

"When Crabbot destroyed, but killing prettykittybot's friend fishbot-"

"I'm really having difficulty following him," the man stated.

"Waspy, why don't we continue this back home?" Minerva then suggested. "I think we're all a bit tired from this entire ordeal. I need a beer and a shower, and I bet Luke would like to get some rest after all that happened to him today."

"I'm running on pure adrenaline right now," the newcomer smiled brightly. 

Minerva only grinned, leaning back into her chair, just as Darxtar's voice hailed through the sound system.

"Shrike's Cry  _ cleared for docking in Repair Bay 2. Welcome home, Minnie." _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"There. THERE." Black slammed her palms into the table, causing the mug to jump. "Okay, Mac, gonna need to talk this out a bit. Get it out of my head. Scrap. Do I have any nerd iterations? Do you have something I can jot on?"  
>  Mac laughed heartily, both amused and encouraging. "Come now, my girl, you know by now this is all a product of your own consciousness."  
> "Yeah, get my own damn whiteboard." She turned in her seat, stood, and waved her hand towards the bank of video screens on the wall. It shimmered, metamorphosing into the instructor side of a lecture hall. "Okay. Scrap. I can do this. Perceptor's involved, so it's logical. Brainstorm? Brainstorm hasn't shown up. But that doesn't mean Starscream couldn't cause issues. Especially now that we have two instances of his influence now. Not a quantum duplicate...but temporal." As she spoke, notes appeared on the board. "I don't know if any of the others crossed paths with their past selves during the time case incident, but -- " she groaned, falling to her knees. "Who am I kidding? I'm not smart-like. Just because I hang out with nerds doesn't mean I understand what they talk about."  
> "Focus, my girl," Mac encouraged. "What about the time case?"  
> "I --" she stammered. "I couldn't focus then. It was not...I wasn't in the right headspace then." Her shoulders slumped, her head bowed, and she waved away the partially filled whiteboard. "Unfortunate, but understandable, given the circumstances. Another point of view may be needed. One who lived through the paradox." Where Black had been stood a felinoid Maximal, mutated by Vok tech.   
> "Waspinator was the vessel," Elder lectured, summoning a hologram of the green and gold Predacon, "but Starscream was the catalyst." Another wave of the hand, and another hologram, this one of the red, silver, and blue Air Commander, appeared next to the first. Now regarding the bartender, she frowned. "There's something out of sequence, something important. Something that Brash doesn't understand and Black can't access. Something...corrupted...huh.  
> "Mac," she returned to the bar, meeting his gaze. "I think I know what caused this, but without the sequence in place -- "  
> "-- it will be difficult to find the best way to untangle this." Mac bobbed his head in agreement. "What do you need?"  
> Elder crossed her arms over her chest and bowed her head. "Some way to influence a previous iteration without worrying about collapsing universes in the process."_


	6. Dirty Tactics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning to Cybertron may prove to be more trouble than its worth. Finding out the location of Starscream's cheering squad was the easy part.

Iacon

Cybertron

The two femmes stepped out of the transport, five seconds before Skyfire transformed.

"I never thought I would see this place again," Artemis stated coolly as she gazed up at the tall metal spires of the city before her.

"Nonetheless, Artemis, welcome home," Skyfire smiled, clapping a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Thanks, big guy," the corner of her mouth turned upward, almost shyly.

"Artemis!"

The sharp beckon caused the black femme's head to snap forward, locking optics onto the Autobot leader on Cybertron, Elita One, striding towards them, with Chromia flanking her on her right.

Stormrave stood slightly at attention as Artemis nodded informally. "Elita. So what do you need me for to pull me from detention?"

"You weren't under detention, Artemis," Elita shook her head. "You were allowed to do as you pleased-"

"As long as I had an escort, yes," the taller femme corrected with a smirk. "So, back to my original question..."

"The Decepticon, yes." Elita turned, indicating for the three to follow her. Chromia gave Artemis nothing more than an untrusting glare. "He won't talk. All we know is that he's part of this Vengeance Posse. Kup informed us you know of them."

"Unfortunately." She scoffed. "And he won't talk. Must be sober for once. Do you know which one it is?"

"Again, he's been keeping silent. He's a dark blue and violet Seeker-"

"Sidewinder," Artemis answered. "Not the brightest in the bunch. Wouldn't know what 'interrogation' was even if you read him the definition. Did you threaten to cut off his interface unit?"

The five Autobots halted. Stormrave fought a snicker, Skyfire seemed shocked, Chromia blinked a few times, and Elita only gave Artemis a rather exasperated look.

Artemis retained a stone serious expression.

"I can't say I actually thought of that one," the pink femme replied, slightly deadpan.

"Didn't think you would. Even if you did, Sidewinder's difficult to intimidate. He wouldn't take an Autobot seriously." Artemis continued the trek, the others falling into step, with Elita taking up her right.

"And that's why we had you come home." Chromia directed forcefully.

"Ah, yes, intimitating stupid Decepticons is my specialty," the black femme chortled with a bounce in her step. "Poor Galvie. He was intimidated by me. His loss, Autobot's gain."

"Nice to see your sense of humour's still in tact." A grin flickered across Elita's face.

"I've got a trillion and one Minion insults. Almost as many as how many I have for Magnus," Artemis winked, giving Elita a slight, friendly punch to the shoulder. "So, let's go see what I can do to get some answers out of Sidewinder, then."

*

On Earth, the advantage of being small was thwarted by the fact the denizens there were of equal or lesser standing as the spy cassettes.

Back on Cybertron, however, Rumble had no problems whatsoever slipping into the ventilation systems of Iacon undetected. A few low-grade shorts to the alarm system, and anyone who was monitoring the grid would have seen only a minor variance in power output, but still operating at normal. Here, he could walk upright in the duct without hunching over, as he did back on earth. It was quite comforting, in a way.

Listening intently to the echoes within the vents, he carefully evaluated his situation. He had entered the defense hub of Iacon; he would have to find Frenzy, get the hell out of Dodge, as the humans say, and head to Polyhex through the mass transit system underground. Then, activate the space bridge and poof! Back to Charr. Theoretically, a well-oiled plan, according to Galvatron.

The idiot.

Pausing, Rumble furrowed his brow. Activating his low-frequency communicator, geared only for close-range communications between Soundwave and the other spy cassettes, he emitted a series of high-speed buzzes and clicks. If the Autobots did catch wind of the frequency, they would probably think it was some sort of interference. The downside was that it had a bad delay due to the low wavelength of the frequency. It might be thirty clicks or more before Frenzy picked up the transmission, if he did at all.

Swiftly, he picked up the pace, wondering if Frenzy had any more luck than he.

What would the boss do if he found out about the coup? Would he tell Galvatron? If Soundwave was one thing, he was extremely loyal to the Decepticon cause. But was he loyal to the leader alone? Or did he even care who led, just as long as he led the Decepticons?

Sooner or later, the spy master was going to find out.

And, as stable as Soundwave was, the virus would make him unpredictable.

That much was for certain.

Another series of clicks and buzzes entered his auditory sensor. Automatically, the code was deciphered.

"Rumble, I'm in Mass Transit Station 4-Delta, about fifteen klicks northeast of your current position. The Autobots know nothing more than we do."

"I'll meet you in a half-megacycle, then. I did pick up some new information. Will tell you when we meet up. Rumble, out." Cutting transmission, he backtracked to a junction and turned right, towards what he knew would lead him downwards eventually, to the local substation. Prime-Alpha, if he remembered correctly. From there, he could hop a train to 4-Delta.

No problem.

***

Artemis was used to the stares. Stares of accusation, of mistrust, of surprise and wonder, even. She had been there before.

Chromia and Stormrave were both excused themselves to their on-planet duties, and Skyfire was asked to remain within the hub.

Artemis had to chuckle at that. Poor guy. Was it mere infatuation or just the need to know more about what she had been up to those long stellar cycles past. Oh well.

By the time they reached the detention center, her only companion was Elita One.

And, of course, the presence of her personal rival hovering near her left shoulder.

She longed to get to Four Winds. As soon as this ordeal was over, she could have a drink, chat with Ritter, and get down to some real, important business.

The moment she laid optics on the Seeker on the other side of the force grid, sulking with his arms crossed over his chest, she laughed heartfily. This caused the prisoner to swing his head towards the two femmes, his optics wide in almost fright.

"Well, hello, Sidewinder!" Artemis greeted brightly, striding up to the force grid with a wide smile. "Fancy meeting you here!"

"What the hell are you doing here?" he drawled, staring at her chest. "Nice paintjob. Emblem's a little messed up..."

"Cut the slag, Sidewinder," the black femme ordered, the smile never leaving her face. "Got a couple of questions for you. Feel like answering them?"

"Ain't telling you a thing, traitor," Sidewinder narrowed his optics.

"Oh, now I am a traitor? Last I checked, so were you, being loyal to Starscream. Wouldn't that make you a traitor too, to Galvatron? Hmmm?"

"Alas, they were too stupid for my interests," Starscream hissed in her auditory.

"Would have made good gun fodder," Artemis suggested flippantly. Sidewinder, only hearing her voice, seemed confused as he hopped from one leg to the other, nervously. "So, old buddy, mind telling me why you guys attacked the moonbase?"

"Autobots just ask to get their tailpipes kicked!" Sidewinder protested.

"Oh, and that would explain why you're in there and I'm out here, I see..." With a slight nod, she then added, "How about go one on one with me, then, and we'll see about that."

"I don't think so," Sidewinder snapped. "You fight dirty."

"And you don't?"

"It's a different principle!"

"Oh, shut up and answer my questions, or I swear, I won't be nice anymore." Losing her smile, she glared through the bars. "What did Sonyx hope to accomplish by attacking a base on the home advantage as you guys were grossly outnumbered?"

"I don't have to tell-"

Artemis's palm slammed into the force grid, sending bright blue sparks through the network, startling Sidewinder again.

"Would you like it if I had Elita retract this shield? I'll show you exactly what I would do if I got my hands on Sonyx, how's that?"

"Funny you should mention that," the Seeker winced. "'Cuz that's exactly why she was looking for you."

"Ah, so all this was to blow off steam because she couldn't find me, eh?" With another chuckle, she shook her head, then met Sidewinder's gaze coldly. "I grow tired of your stupidity, frankly. I can see why Starscream thought you as imbecilic motorheads with no real clue of the universe around you!"

"You were-are!-nothing but a lowly Autobot! You did not deserve the position granted to you! For that alone-"

"Shut up," she ordered curtly. "So, where is your little base of operations now?"

"None of your damn business!"

"Elita?" Artemis reached down and unhooked her rifle from her leg. "Open the grid. I'm gonna shoot off each limb till he tells me."

"You wouldn't!" the Seeker cried out.

"Ask yourself if I wouldn't," the black femme growled. "You know I would..."

"Reicere!"

"What was that?"

"Reicere...! We're based on the Rejected planet of Reicere!"

Artemis nodded somewhat, hitching her rifle back to her leg, before turning back to Elita One.

"A word with you alone," she hissed, as the two exuented, leaving Sidewinder alone in the hold.

Once they were out of earshot, Artemis leaned against the wall, staring more at her old friend's feet as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Anything else you want from him?" she demanded. "Because I would like to send him home to Sonyx with a message."

"I'm afraid we can't do that," Elita One retorted, a little too sharply, betraying her mistrust.

"Didn't think you would. But if Sonyx is one thing, she's persistent. If we don't make the point to her that we are not to be screwed with-"

"Would she side with Galvaton?"

"Never. She hates Galvatron more than she hates me. To side with him would render her vengeance null. And for her, she holds grudges, a little too long at that."

"Why would you want to let him go, then?"

"As I said before, to deliver a message. Do you know where Reicere is?"

"It...isn't familiar in our cartographical files, no."

"Didn't think so. I've only got an inkling, from some friends who didn't want to live under Sirian laws and ended up there. It's somewhere within a fifty parsec radius of Sirius II, that's about as much as I know. And as stupid as Sidewinder is, he won't tell us where it is, either, no matter what I threaten him with. Sonyx's punishment for telling us exactly where their base is would be much worse than our's if he doesn't."

"So are you suggesting we should let him go and perhaps tag or follow him?"

"Exactly."

Elita One cupped her chin in her hand, gazing downward. Artemis took that click to steal a glance at her old friend.

"I will consider it further, after I talk to the Council. In the meantime, why don't you get some rest? You must be exhausted from your trip."

"I'm used to working all-nighters," Artemis winked, following Elita One back to the command hub.

"Arty, once again, you're scheming and not telling me," Starscream's voice hissed. Before she could react, he added, "No, don't say anything just yet. Wait until we are alone. Anyhow, I think I know what you're up to."

Alone. That may prove difficult. True, she was surrounded by Autobots, perhaps believing that she wouldn't do anything funny in their presence, but their paranoia had escalated after the Great War. Defense, security, surveillance, all upgraded, all over the place.

It made things a bit more of a challenge.

Of course, the wonders of post traumatic stress made it possible for her to talk to herself without getting so much as a strange look. As long as she kept her voice low enough so that only a ghost could hear her whisper, she rationed, she was in the clear.

She did not receive as much of a lukewarm reception as she did when she was brought to Autobot City; perhaps it was due to the fact that most of these Autobots on Cybertron were either built and grew up off-planet after the Great War started or, if they were from the same generation as her or older, knew of her shady allegiance prior to returning, and spread the stories- no doubt stretched-to the younger population.

And yet, they still proved forgiving sorts, allowing her to walk amongst them freely, as long as she had a companion.

Her former friend led her to the guest quarters of the hub, where normally diplomats, ambassadors, and whatnot were usually boarded.

Probably to keep her close as possible to maintain tabs on her, she reasoned.

"If you need anything, just buzz security," Elita was explaining, Artemis realising then that she had pretty much missed almost everything the Autobot leader was telling her. Oh, well.

The next chance the black femme got, she bade Elita good night and slipped into the quarters, sliding the door closed before her old friend could bid her the same.

"Now, Arty, that wasn't too nice, now, was it?" Starscream chortled.

Artemis quickly scanned the room, then flopped into a chair in the far corner. Throwing her head back, she stared up at the ceiling blankly.

"What can I say? I'm beat," she retorted, intaking a great breath of air. Following, her voice dipped in volume. "Sonyx hates Galvatron more than she hates me, right?"

"At least she has her priorities straight," her dead companion scoffed.

"I think I shall issue her a challenge."

"And why would you do that?"

"Think about it, flyboy," she sat up, then leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, her head bowed. "I issue her a challenge to meet me at the Four Winds, two solar cycles from now. That will get her interests piqued, however not taking into consideration that I would have the home field advantage."

"Continue."

"If our courier goes directly as planned, then by the time she gets there, our buddies will have arrived as well, granting me a hefty number of sentients on our side. Rather than fight, I will issue to her a compromise-"

"-Inviting her to side in a coup in the name of the true leader of the Decepticons!" Starscream's voice hit an epiphany, an almost joyful tone.

"Regardless of our past, her loyalty to you is pretty strong, nonetheless."

"As much as they can be."

Artemis looked up at the spot where Starscream willed himself visible.

Sharing a smirk, they both commented, "Gun fodder," before Artemis leaned back in her chair.

"I just hope that Elita One takes your bait," the spectre commented. "Or else, that plan is for naught."

"You know me, Flyboy," she smiled devilishly. "If one plan falls through, I simply form another to compensate. Speaking of which, don't you have something you need to do now? Like make sure our courier gets to his destination?"

"You are not one to give me orders, Artemis," he chided sternly.

"My mistake, I apologize."

"Feh." His presence dispersed abruptly, leaving Artemis once again alone.

"At last, some rest," she sank deeper into the chair, considering for a click to actually move over to the recharge bed, but decided against it, slipping into her sleep cycle quickly.

***

Four Winds Bar

Sirius II

The hulk of a Decepticon, dark blue and silver with hints of dark rust-coloured trim propped his head on his hand, staring at the three smaller sentients entering the closed bar.

"Better get in the kitchen before Drez gets in, Waspy," the female ordered as she arched her back. The wasp creature nodded, then zipped to the back room. "Hey, Darxtar, any messages while I was out?"

The Decepticon chuckled, winking his good eye.

"Been pretty quiet around here since the Nebs left two solar cycles ago. So," with a nod, he pointed his square chin to Luke, "that the kid all this fuss is about?"

"This is Luke MacArin. Luke, this is Darxtar, Drez's original partner in crime before I hooked up with him. He used to manage the mercks from Cybertron."

"Slottin' Autobots changed that," Darxtar retorted gruffly, pulling a rag the size of a bed sheet and wiping down the counter. "My place was neutral; I allowed both Bots and Cons to come in...but they kicked me out anyway after the Great War ended." With a chuckle, he shrugged. "Drez took me in, so to speak. I get to push around the idiots who try starting trouble." He looked down at the blonde female. "Somehow, you bringing him here means there's more problems than just the Nebs."

"Baen Sidhe, too," Minerva hissed. "You don't know about them, old friend, but they're a tad bit nastier than the Nebulons. The plus side: they can't leave Earth. Anchored by her magic, so to speak."

"Slottin' magic," Darxtar snorted. "No such thing."

"True," Minerva remarked, "but it's all science unexplained, nonetheless. Anywho, Luke's safer here than on Earth, though I might have to lay low from Earth for a while. I don't know how long the fog I casted on Detective Lovecraft will last; hopefully, it will be enough to erase the connections between me and Arty. Oh! Speaking of which, the We Hate Galvie The Lunatic Club's gonna be meeting in two solar cycles here. We need the back room cleared out for them, and the back door unlocked if the need be."

"I know all about that kind of stuff. Had to help the Autobots I tolerated in the event of a Megatron raid, remember?" Darxtar guffawed. "So my favourite lass is still kicking; great news. I knew Galvie couldn't ace her like he did that idiot she always hung around with."

"Um..." Luke coughed. "If 'that idiot' is Air Commander Starscream, then that's not entirely true."

Darxtar glared down at the human, appearing less like the jovial bartender he was a couple of clicks past and more like an war-scarred soldier burdened by ghosts of the past.

"What," the old Decepticon growled, "did you say, meat?"

Luke backed up somewhat, closer to Minerva. Unlike the Air Commander, this guy was very much alive and running.

"Apparently," Minerva cleared her throat, jumping to Luke's defense, "Starscream's ghost is still able to converse with Art-and Luke here as well. Looks like Screamer and Art are heading this little coup, even if he's corporeally challenged at the present."

"Slot." Darxtar bowed his heavy head. "He's gonna get her killed. I know it."

"Well, you know damn well she's gonna do her own thing to manipulate him just as much as he does to her. Luke, hunny," Minerva patted his shoulder. "Will you go help out Waspy in the kitchen? I know you just got here, but me and Darxtar-and Drez, when he gets here-need to discuss things of a rather metatemporal level."

"Yeah, sure," Luke agreed, silently thankful. Darxtar gave him a bit of the creeps anyway. It probably would be more beneficiary if he laid low until he got a little more used to the Decepticon behind the counter. Quietly, he ventured past the bar and into the kitchen, where Waspinator, still in beast mode, was zipping from the sink to the large floor-to-ceiling cupboard on the other side of the vast room with armloads of plates and glasses.

"Hey, Waspy," Luke greeted as the doors closed behind him, shutting him away from the common room. "Need some help?"

Waspinator started somewhat, dropping a load of dinner plates. Deftly, he swooped, gathering most of them, two shattering on the tile floor. With a defeated sigh, the Predacon shoved the remaining plates onto a shelf ten feet up and glanced down at the broken shards, shaking his head slowly.

"Lukiebot startled Waspinator," the wasp chided meekly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," Luke apologized. "Minnie and Darxtar wanted to talk alone. I thought maybe you could use some help back here."

"Waspinator appreciate Lukiebot's kindness." The green and gold Transformer hovered near the human, as if examining him for the first time. "Lukiebot not need to be so nice to Waspinator. Only Minniebot nice to Waspinator. Darkbot and bossbot gruff with Waspinator, but they treat Waspinator okay."

Taking off his jacket, Luke experimentally patted Waspinator's head, between the antennae, as he had seen Minerva do before leaving earth.

"And why wouldn't I be nice to you?" he questioned, tossing the camo jacket to a nearby chair and pushing up his sleeves somewhat. "I've seen too many mean people in my life to know I don't want to be like them."

"Waspinator been around mean people all existence," the insect resumed his trek to the the sink, where Luke followed. "Even Maximals mean to Waspinator. Prettykittybot wasn't, though."

"So, how was this Prettykittybot in relation to the Autobot chick Minnie hung around with?"

Waspinator, with six beer mugs in hand, blinked his multifaceted optics, almost surprised.

"Lukiebot promise not to tell anyone?"

"Promise."

"Cross fuel pump and swear to go offline?"

"I swear."

"Prettykittybot was Artybot...but Artybot almost get slagged by enemy...so Artybot got reformatted to Prettykittybot." With a whimper, Waspinator relinquished his load and buzzed back to the sink. "Ghostbot told me everything...Waspinator believes Ghostbot has more on his agenda..."

"Wouldn't that create a paradox?" Luke questioned, picking up a stack of plates and hefting them over to the far wall.

"Waspinator knows not...all Waspinator knows is everything going to Ghostbot's plan." His antennae drooped. "Which scares Waspinator."

"Don't blame you on that one," Luke hissed.

Waspinator remained silent as he continued to work, his antennae shivering somewhat. When the dishes were all put away, Waspinator peeked out of the dutch doors and nodded somewhat.

"Bossbot back. Waspinator takes break now." The wasp buzzed back towards Luke. "Waspinator show Lukiebot to room, okay?"

"Yeah, sure..." Luke agreed, grabbing his jacket. "I get my own room?"

"Affirmative. Bossbot give room and board to employees. Part of pay. Also get protection. Waspinator in trouble, Waspinator count on Tailgate or Merc Guild to get Waspinator out. Waspinator like that. Waspinator like being part of something big."

"Well, if Drez's got a place for an experienced hacker, I think I could deal with the setup," the human stated as he followed Waspinator up a spiral, open metal stairway extending up from the far corner of the kitchen.

"Bossbot likes diversity."

"That much is obvious." The stairs were worn and creaky, yet seemed stable enough to support Luke's weight as he ventured upward, tailing the wasp who simply darted up through the hole in the ceiling thirty feet up. "So overall, you like working here?"

"Waspinator does, but Waspinator miss Cybertron." Luke noticed his antennae sag once more. "But Cybertron now isn't Cybertron Waspinator comes from. Cybertron still Autobot/Decepticon. Waspinator wouldn't know anything, anywhere, anyone..." With another whimper, he added, "Waspinator all alone..."

"You've got us," Luke retorted.

Waspinator looked back at the human, his expression brightening.

"Waspinator never had friends before," he explained. "Other Predacons thought Waspinator simpleton, idiot, because of speech program. Waspinator far from dumb. Waspinator know things about what to come...Waspinator understand greater scheme of things." Luke found himself on a smaller floor, built to accommodate beings of his size. Metal sliding doors ran along both walls, but the rest of the decor gave a more rustic, homey feeling with wood panelling that seemed to be a dark cedar, but smelled faintly like cinnamon.

"This is boarding floor," Waspinator explained in a hushed tone. "Where employees and guild members stay."

Luke nodded as he glanced at a couple of doors to his right, one bearing a symbol, four pointed star, the other, a horizontal heavy sword with the tip pointing to the right, both etched in the metal and painted.

"What are those symbols for?" he then asked. Waspinator backpedalled a bit and shook his head.

"Those Guild insignias. Star is Northstar. Sword is Gatecrash."

"Gatecrash's that fighter patrol that helped us escape the Nebulons."

"Affirmative. Gatecrash also hire out. Bodyguards, whatnot."

"So what's Northstar?"

"Assassin Guild. They not all real friendly as other guilds."

The door with the star suddenly hissed open, and Luke found himself being stared down by the first Sirian he had ever seen. Black as night, she was most definitely female, lithe and delicate-featured though portraying an air of street-tough; she could have been mistaken for nude, save the glint of the black, hard leader corset and brassiere, tight-fitting pants, and thigh high boots. Her eyes, one dark gold, the other light blue, expressed nothing less than irritation.

"Will you keep it down out here?" she growled, her voice low and throaty. "Some of us don't have the pleasure of working days, you know."

"I...I'm sorry..." Luke apologized, backing into Waspinator. "I wasn't-"

"Buggy, who is this?" the lupine female demanded, her sharpened gaze shifting to the Predacon.

"This Luke MacArin," Waspinator introduced. The Sirian again glared down at the human.

"This can't be what Drez has been all worried about with the Nebs," she then scoffed. "He's just skin and bones, street punk, hardly worth anything." With a shrug, she added, "Sorta like me before coming here. I'm Brin, Drez's second wife. Glad to see the mission was a success. Even Shon had her doubts. Anyway, is Drez back yet?" This, she directed back at Waspinator.

"Affirmative. Talking to Darkbot and Minniebot now in common room."

"About what, I don't want to know," another voice, gruff and scarred, announced from behind them. "Sounds like something's screwing with the metatemporal streams again."

Luke turned to view the voice, only slightly shocked to see another human, this one a large, broad shouldered man with long black and silver hair plaited behind him, a baseball cap shoved roughly over his brow. He donned a tight-fitting black Tool tee-shirt and tattered jeans, topped off with black combat boots. Dark-complected, Luke guessed Native American, though his eyes were mediterranian blue.

"Luke MacArin," he then nodded. "I'm Raff Ravenwing, Gatecrash's guildmaster. See you've already met the Four Winds tart, Brin."

"Quiet, you," Brin chided. "What would Drez say if he heard you say that about me?"

"He's the one who said it," Raff chortled. "So, Buggy, you giving our new buddy the grand tour?"

"Affirmative," Waspinator nodded again. "Waspinator showing Lukiebot to his room."

"Afterwards, mind heading to the hangar? My MS is a bit rough with the shift to jet."

"Affirmative," this time, his affirmation was more of a defeated sigh.

"Oh, you can stop the guilt trip, Buggy...it's either that or dish duty."

"Waspinator already does dish duty!" he whined.

"MS?" Luke then questioned.

"Mobile Suit. My term for the transtector Gatecrash," Raff smirked. "What, you wanna join or something? With your build, you'd be better suited for Northstar."

"With all the racket he makes? Uh-uh," Brin shook her head. "Probably he's make it better as a Spiral or Blackheart."

"I think I'll take your word for it," Luke chuckled, confused, as he edged away from the Sirian and human. "You know, I'm really getting a bit tired...all this excitement, y'know..."

"Buggy, go show this kid his room before he passes out here," Brin ordered. "My bet, he snores."

*

"So you're telling me the bastard put a dormant program in Waspinator?" The large grey biped wolf demanded, crossing his arms over his massive chest. Darxtar, still at the counter, had served his two organic companions prefered drinks-rye and Coke for Minerva, Cerebus Stout for Drez-and was nursing his own energon lager, listening intently to the conversation.

"Yep. Gotta admit, old wolf, Starscream's intelligent, if impatient." Minnie took a quick sip from her whiskey glass. "This program flares up in Waspy when he's in danger."

"Meaning Starscream wants him to remain alive," Drez nodded thoughtfully. "But why?"

"Got me. The only person who would know would be Starscream, and even then, Starscream from Waspinator's time, not ours. And it has something to do with Art."

"Which we can't confront her about Waspinator because he said so himself-she has direct confrontation with him in the future. Not now. What he knows of her as Artemis is history." The Sirian growled somewhat, tapping his foot against the bar of the stool.

"What about Ritterkruez?" Draxtar suggested bluntly, taking a deep pull from his bottle.

"He was around during the Beast Wars, in his own linear time," Minerva arched her brow.

Drez tapped his jaw. "Good point...but he doesn't like to talk to people."

"Leave him to me," the Decepticon nodded. "He doesn't talk much, but I think I would be able to get some information out of him."

"If he's not chasing Quints," the female pointed out. "Man, we're going around in circles...it seems a lot of our topics lately are looping back to Arty."

"Or Starscream," Darxtar added.

"It's a bit unsettling, yes," Drez interjected. "I don't like the sense of this...as much as I love the girl, trouble follows her in hordes. Especially when coupled with Starscream. And I particularly don't like the way the cosmic Order is laying its cards, either."

"We should call a moot," Minerva retorted, "if you think that this may threaten the multiverse at a cosmic level."

"I don't want to resort to that just yet," Drez shook his head. "Only if it's the only avenue we have left. For right now, we keep the bug in the kitchen, the kid out of sight, and continue on with the original plan."

"Which still involves my girl," Darxtar exclaimed.

"This was her decision, Darxtar," Minerva chided, "not the cosmic Order."

"Regardless," the lupine cleared his throat, "we've got Nebs, Minions, and Rokkans to worry about. Let's keep it at that. At least your damn Sidhe are bound to Terra." Jestingly, he poked Minerva's shoulder.

"So our next order of business is to find out what exactly Luke is," she swiped playfully at Drez's hand. "And to find out more information on the whereabouts of his mother. Unfortunately, if she isn't bound to Earth like other full and some half Sidhe, she's going to be tough to locate. As well as me laying low from Earth for a while."

"You slipped up," Drez narrowed his eyes.

"I had a run-in with a dude who was probably the only one on the West Coast who was nearly immune to my glamour. I wouldn't have guessed." With a smirk, she leaned back to the bar, drink in hand. "Anyway, I laid on the charm extra thick. He thinks it's all a dream."

"You better hope." Darxtar snorted. "Humans are idiots, but they're dangerous with any information they learn. If they make the connection between you and Artemis..."

"Again, Detective Lovecraft is doing the LaLaLand stint."

"I believe you, Minnie," Drez replied. "Well, let's get to work. In any case, let's try to keep things operating at normal, but I think we should beef up Gatecrash patrols around here in the meantime."

"And Starscream?" Minerva questioned.

Drez took a deep breath. "Nothing's gonna stop him from getting to Waspinator, it seems," he exhaled forcibly. "There's only very few who can see him, and that's where he lays his advantage. I don't really know how to deal in that situation. Some of the Howl diviners can exorcise ghosts; I really don't have a clue if it will work on him, though. Let me talk to Shon about that."

"In the meantime, stay cool, then," Minerva nodded. "Okay, this is gonna be an interesting couple of days."

"Indeed, it is," Darxtar agreed solemnly, taking another pull of his drink.

***

Polyhex, Cybertron

Two tiny creatures stood on a ledge of what used to be the central building of the Decepticon Empire.

Known simply as Shockwave's Tower, it was here that Megatron's appointed leader of the Cybertronian-based Decepticons issued orders to the troops in the absence of Megatron.

Now, the Autobots pretty much made it into a pansy museum.

"Galvatron is nuts, have I ever mentioned that?" Frenzy hissed to his brother.

"You're telling me? I'm just hoping Arty pulls through in her part of the bargain," Rumble snorted. "Gives me the creeps that Starscream's ghost is still floating around."

"Who wouldn't?" the red and black spy cassette chortled nervously. "At least he wasn't nuts like Galvatron."

"Doesn't it spook you just knowing he could be listening on this very conversation?"

"Stop it, Rumble! You're making me paranoid!" Frenzy ordered with a nervous chuckle. "Let's just get home and bring back what you found for the boss. Maybe once he's back and operational, he'll be able to talk some sense into Galvie..."

"Face it...everyone lives in fear of Galvatron. Even Soundwave," Rumble, crouched low, crept to a window low enough for him to peer in. "The only one who doesn't is Cyclonus, and he's pretty much the dude who's running the joint. Now that guy is worse than Starscream...if the Air Commander had that much reign on Megatron as Cyclonus has on Galvatron-"

"We might have won the Great War?" Frenzy questioned, almost innocently, as he followed suit of his brother. "I mean, it was Megatron who wanted to follow the Autobots when we crashed on Earth. Had we followed Starscream's suggestion-"

"It would have been over before it had started," the blue cassette shrugged. "Dunno. I just have this weird feeling that there's some cosmic mumbo jumbo involved in everything, yanno?"

"Thought you didn't believe in that slag."

"I didn't believe Arty when she told me Starscream still existed, as a ghost." Rumble shivered. "This way. We should be coming along the ventilation systems soon."

"And then, we go home!" Frenzy's tone brightened. "It ain't much, but at least it's somewhere."

Rumble did not comment on that; rather, he examined the grate he knelt before, shorting out the alarm system.

"They don't seem too concerned about anyone breaking and entering here," he whispered. "These alarms aren't even up to code."

"Sometimes, those are the more dangerous ones. If one malfunctions and we're inside, it wouldn't matter how careful we are."

"All the more reason to get out of here in A-S-A-slotting-..." Easing the grate out of the way, Rumble slipped into the duct, waiting for his brother to enter before venturing on. "Shockwave's control center was up two levels."

"Let's go up one more level, then," Frenzy suggested. "We'll enter through the ceiling. That way, if there are Autobots present, we can snipe them rather than popping up from the floor and getting vaped before getting our blasters out."

The two looked at each other for a click, then both drew their lasers.

"Sounds like a plan," Rumble agreed. "Let's go forth and kick ass."

*

This place gave Apollo the creeps.

He didn't really want to be in Polyhex; but Elita had asked him to do some research, and who was he to refuse a beautiful woman's request? Best place to find anything about Decepticons was the Decepticons command tower.

As much as he loathed this place. Bad memories for the most part; getting beaten up as a kid by bullies from Polyhex every time he went to find his sister, for example. More times than not, if he did find her, they would return home, not even a scratch on her, whereas he would have dents, chips, broken fenders and headlights, even dislocated joints.

Back then, those bullies he didn't like became true enemies of the Autobots; some he had recognized as the ones who had kicked him in the back or punched him in the face now fired lasers to kill.

Apollo hated one thing more than Decepticons, and that was violence.

His fingers flying across the keyboard, his only light being the monitor, the sky blue male scanned the database for any mention of Vengeance Posse. Not surprisingly, there was none, though there was one little individual piece of information about Sonyx. Graduate of the War Academy, top ten in her class...yadda yadda yadda...not much on actual war, since there seemed to be nothing noted on any campaigns she participated in...

_...hello... _

Apollo rubbed his optics to make sure he was reading the last line right.

Psychological evaluation from the war academy...due to an irreparable glitch in her neural processor, she suffered from fits of paranoia, violent mood swings, lack of control of her actions...the list continued, concluding with a recommendation by the Decepticon neural surgeon, Mindsurge, to either destroy her or let her loose in Autobot HQ and hope to Primus she slags a Prime before they ace her.

"Sounds like Galvatron himself," Apollo chuckled aloud. "A perfect match for him, I would think." With a blink, he added, "Wonderful, I'm beginning to sound like Art, talking to myself."

Apparently, he thought silently, this Sonyx character was considered dangerous to her own side, even by Decepticon standards. If there was any more information-

There was a sudden noise above his head, however slight.

"Moonracer?" he called out. "Is that you, sweetspark?"

When he didn't receive an answer, he drew his blaster and stood on guard.

"Who's there?" he demanded before taking a step towards the cylindrical structure in the dead center of the large room. His foot falls echoed on the metal floor, almost loud enough to drown out the two thuds behind him. Sharply, he pivoted on the ball of his foot, his blaster aimed in the direction of the noise, only to receive a potent laser beam from floor level to his chest, reeling him back in pain.

"Hey, the dude's familiar!" the red spy cassette remarked, firing another shot, this time at Apollo's feet.

"Who cares, he’s flying red!" his companion chortled, rushing to the control panel. "Frenzy, keep him busy! I got work to do!" Adding under his breath, "Okay, Screamer, you better be helping out here...this is, after all, your plan," he started typing feverishly at the controls.

"Hey, Rumble, think I can kill him?" Frenzy demanded as he fired another shot, disarming the sky blue Autobot, before receiving a swift kick to the midsection, sending him back towards the panel.

"I don't know what you're up to, Decepticons," Apollo hissed, standing with a painful grimace, "but you won't get away with it!"

All three were suddenly jolted by the fact all the lights flickered and dimmed, red emergency lamps flaring around the room.

"All systems save the space bridge offline!" Rumble announced. "Frenzy, make like the Undertaker and piledrive the bastard!"

"With pleasure!" Frenzy jumped to his feet, transforming his arms into their piledriving mode. With short bursts, the pneumatic arms hammered at the metal floor, quaking the structure to off-balance the Autobot once more. Swiftly, Rumble turned from his station, fired another shot at Apollo, this time in the leg, and returned to the programming. Frenzy took the advantage to leap upon the Autobot, pounding another series of powerful jabs into his adversary's midsection. A there was an abrupt charge in the air as the cylinder in the center of the room opened in a swirl of gold light.

"That's it! Let's bail!" Rumble shouted, leaping from the control panel and racing to the open space bridge.

"I haven't killed him!"

"No time! The other 'Bots will be here any minute! Let's go!"

Frenzy reverted his arms back to normal, saluted the pained Autobot, and bolted to the bridge after his brother.

Five clicks later, the gold light dispersed, leaving the low red light bathing the ruined room.

Apollo managed to get himself to his hands and knees, spitting a mass of mech fluid.

"Dammit!" Rolling to his back, he grimaced once more in pain, trying to fathom what had just happened.

It was true. Wherever Artemis went, trouble followed.

With another hefty groan, he stood, swaying unsteadily.

"Who would have thought two little shrimps could do so much damage?" he questioned rhetorically before staggering to the control panel. Sinking to one knee, he tapped away, attempting to get the communication grid online.

"Apollo to Iacon Hub, we have a code red," he coughed, spraying more mech fluid on the monitor.

_ "Chromia here, Apollo. What happened?" _

"Decepticons...Rumble and Frenzy...they...they blindsided me, then...then took off in the space bridge to..." He quickly glanced at the space bridge controls, "...back to Charr...Chromia, we have a security breech-where's Artemis? I bet she-"

_ "Simmer down, Apollo...never mind that now, are you injured?" _

"I...function..."

_ "I'll send Brat Pack and Ranger to retrieve you...in the meantime, just relax...we'll get to the bottom of this..." _

"Thanks, sweetspark..." he coughed again, releasing the comm button and falling to his side with a grunt, unaware of his disembodied visitor, who, with a cruel chortle, dispersed with nothing so much as a slight disturbance in the air.

*

Apollo was woken up by the tiny indigo and gold medic, who was checking his vital signs on a dataport interface.

"How long was I out?" he questioned hoarsely.

"Not long enough to offline you, mate," Brits retorted. "Some internal damage, but nothing too serious. Mostly cosmetic; did a number with the pile drivers, eh?"

"Don't remind me," the sky blue Autobot growled, attempting to sit up.

"Packrat, Torque, let's get him loaded up and back to Iacon," Brits ordered to the two male-designates standing in the doorway.

"I hate rescue detail," Packrat grumbled for only Torque to hear. He only gave the smaller Autobot's fender a nudge as they helped Brits carefully pick up Apollo and carried him outside to where the blue pickup was waiting. "I'm a scavenger, not an EMT."

"Shut yer bloody trap," Brits ordered to Packrat, before reverting her attention to Ranger. "Okay, mate, get him back to Iacon. We'll be right behind you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Close," Elder growled. "So close I can sense it. But she's too dense. I can't believe she's that dense."  
>  Mac chuckled; Elder glared at him in warning before contemplating her next move. "Wait. This should be my past. Why are Brash and I separate iterations?"  
> "Aha!" The bartender clapped his hands together. "You may be onto something!"  
> "Something caused us to split," Elder turned to the holograms of Waspinator and Starscream. "I shouldn't remember this if that was the case. Unless this Brash is a different iteration that happens to be following my own...?"  
> "Or," Mac suggested, "something happened to you to split from Brash?"  
> Elder studied her hand. "I had returned to Cybertron after the Beast Wars. I was infected and reformatted. I should be depicted here as technorganic, not transmetal. Something...did happen."  
> "I think those clues may be elsewhere," Mac agreed. "Not here, though. Not yet."  
> "No. This is too far back for the split to have occurred. Strange. Brash and I are from the earliest iterations, but for some reason Black is easier to access than the others. Could it be because she's one of the newer iterations? Or," Elder closed her hand, rubbing her middle and forefingers with her thumb. "It was her iteration that caused the paradox."  
> "As I said, those clues lay elsewhere, but they're not the focus just yet."_


	7. Dreamtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumble reunites with his brothers and reports his findings, however reluctantly, to Galvatron. Meanwhile, Elita-One initiates the plan to entrap the rogue Decepticon cell, and the truth behind the virus's origin is revealed.

***

The nothingness surrounding her was a bit unsettling.

"I hate this slottin' dream," Artemis growled to herself. "This is the absolute last time I fall asleep in a chair."

The nothingness faded into the usual dreamscape she had been witnessing for the past score of solar cycles-same black sky, same brushed metal ground casting no shadow-a boring, endless plane.

"You'd think I'd be able to dream something with a little more variety," she commented cynically.

"You're looking inside your spark, Arty; it ain't too much variety to begin with."

The black femme pivoted on her foot, dodging somewhat as she expected an attack of some sort. The voice, female, deep, lacking any reverb of a Cybertronian, was hauntingly familiar to her; the voice's owner was nowhere to be seen.

"Who's there?" Artemis demanded. "And don't call me-"

"Yes, yes, I know all about that." There was a slight chortle, this time to her left. "Calm down, kid...I'm only here to talk."

"'Only here to talk...'" Artemis too scoffed. "So I suppose the question would be, what are you?"

"Oh, no one in particular...just a whisper in your spark, so to speak."

"Then surely you can show yourself, if you are indeed a part of me," her tone took an interesting dive, a slow smile on her face. "Cannot be weirder than what I've seen lately."

"Oh, trust me, Arty, you haven't seen anything yet." What seemed to be a three dimensional blueprint schematic, a base biped, then filling out in greys, blacks, blues and reds.

Before Artemis stood a strange creature, appearing ancient in the high cheek structure in its feline face. Its head and torso seemed to be some weird mesh of organic and technology, whereas its arms, legs, and blade-tipped tail was most definitely mechanoid. A long, black and silver plait fell over her shoulder.

"So, what exactly are you? Another inner demon?"

"Not quite," the feline mechanoid took a few steps towards Artemis, her heavily-built legs echoing with each foot fall. "No more good-angel-bad-angel you've been suffering from. Just you and me. Listen, kid...we've gotta talk."

"Wonderful," Artemis began circling the creature-she noticed a Decepticon emblem on her left shoulder, an Autobot on her right, and one more, a strange, animal head of some sort over her breast-meeting the ice-cool gaze with an equally cold stare. "I'm giving myself a little spark to-spark talk."

"Enough with the smart-arsed remarks, Art. Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

"I get it...you're my conscience. Well, I got news for you...in my profession, I can't afford one."

Unexpectedly, the creature threw her head back and laughed. "Far from that! If you must know, I was created with the virus."

"Virus?" Artemis stepped back in surprise. "What virus?"

"The only one threatening the Cybertronians at this moment."

"The Unicron Virus? How? I wasn't connected-"

"It's not passed by interface, kid. That's the first mistake both the Autobots and Decepticons made."

"How would you know this? How would I know this? What the hell's going on?"

"Calm down, Art. It's only serious for those who were interfaced. Anyone else is simply a carrier. As for how I know it, again, I'm a byproduct of the carrier virus. Not everyone affected gets it, either. It's an echo of Unicron's past, implanted in a few random Cybertronians. Lucky you, eh?"

"So you're actually part of the virus."

"If you say so. Probably the best thing to view it as in the meantime."

"So why are you here, then?"

"Clearing things up, so to speak."

"So what's this, you can't volunteer answers?"

"You've got to ask the right questions."

"So you're from Unicron's past? When was he built, then?"

"He came into existence before the universe was formed, at the same moment as Primus. Next question, and please, try keeping it in relevance to the situation at hand."

"Situation at hand? Which one?"

"Pick one."

"Okay, the virus...why does Unicron wish us destroyed?"

"Because he is the Destroyer. Next question."

"You're beginning to be a real pain in the ass, you know that?"

"Oh, hell yeah."

Artemis glared at the apparation.

"Okay, this isn't working, is it, Art? You're not the one to believe much in symbolism. So let me ask you a question: if you succeed in this little coup of yours, what are the Autobots going to think of you?"

"Why do you think I'm working on the sidelines? My hands are tied because of it!"

"You're trying to be loyal to everyone...but can you really be loyal to anyone doing that? Those Decepticons who were loyal to the original Megatron but not Galvatron might not be satisfied with the fact that they were led to this by an Autobot mercenary and a dead Air Commander. Those who are loyal to you-Thundercracker, the Combaticons, maybe, and perhaps the cassettes-aren't enough to stop the others from revolting against you."

"And that's why I'm sticking to the Autobots," Artemis snapped angrily. "If we can get Galvatron, Cyclonus, and Scourge out of the way with the rest of the Minions, if there was another coup-"

"You said it, not me. The Decepticons run on revolting, Art."

"They weren't originally-"

"I know the history, Art. You don't need to give me a lesson. Just be on your guard. You have one more topic you haven't touched yet."

"The cure for the virus."

"Well, no, but I suppose I could answer that. You have the right idea with the magnetic field; however, there is a lot more to it than just that. It's programmed at a much more sophisticated programming level than ours. And the answer lies with the third problem you're going to run into."

"The Quintessons," Artemis hissed.

"Exactly."

"Where do they fit into the equation?"

"They created Unicron."

"But you said-"

"I did. Unicron was created before the beginning of time."

"You lost me."

"I know I did, but that's not important."

"Yep, you're definitely a virus." The black femme turned from the the creature before her. "I think it's time to wake up from this slag."

The felinoid chuckled, shaking her head.

"You truly don't understand," she called after Artemis. "But no matter. Soon you will. Very soon."

"Slag off. I'm really getting tired of these damned dreams, okay? I don't need you or Prime or Flyboy telling me what I have to do and what I can't...it's all just some random files sticking themselves together to form these twisted, senseless, meaningless hallucinations!"

"Stress getting to you, Art?" the apparition questioned, almost concerned. "Don't let it, if you want to succeed. Just think about it before you act...you might end up like Flyboy. Can't be loyal to everyone."

"Just leave me," Artemis ordered sternly. "I don't need a conscience."

"Suit yourself, kid." The felinoid saluted slightly, dispersing back to the blueprint, then fading from existence, taking any light with her.

Leaving Artemis in a dark nothingness, suspended in a great void.

Alone.

Abruptly, she was overcome by the sensation of plummeting downward at an alarming right. With a strangled cry, she shut her optics tight, gritting her teeth as the sickening feeling of her fuel processor lodged into her throat choked back a scream.

A loud buzzing sound filled her auditory sensors. Slowly, the falling sensation ebbed, allowing her to open her optics again to realise she was now awake, slouched in the chair she had fallen asleep in.

The door buzzed again.

"Slot," Artemis sat up groggily, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Who's there?"

"Artemis, there's trouble in Polyhex," Elita-One's voice was muffled through the metal.

"I'm coming out..." the black femme stood, stretching, before venturing to the door, thumbing the glyph to slide it open. Meeting the Autobot leader's optics with equally tired ones, she added, "What happened?"

"There was a break-in at Shockwave's lab...it was Rumble and Frenzy. We don't know what they got away with, but they did a number to Apollo in the process."

Still getting beaten up after all these years, Artemis smirked internally. Damn fool. Why he was in Polyhex was beyond her, but at least Rumble got to the space bridge.

Externally, her expression remained deadpan, as if still registering the information.

"What," she blinked, readjusting to the light from the hallway, "was Apollo doing in Polyhex in the first place?"

"He was retrieving information in Polyhex databanks of Vengeance Posse. We had no idea we had been infiltrated by Decepticons."

"Don't you have a security system set up in that area?"

"Apparently, it wasn't effective enough. We have a clean up team reinforcing the perimeter now, as well as finding out what Rumble and Frenzy got away with."

"And Apollo?"

"He thinks you were behind it." Elita-One glanced downward, almost ashamed...of what?

"I can see why," Artemis stated coldly.

"No one's accusing you of anything, Artemis. There's no evidence connecting you with the break in. I think Apollo's just bitter."

With a defeated shove off from the wall, Artemis strode out to the hallway and walked alongside Elita-One as they headed to the command hub.

"Maybe I should have stayed on Earth," she muttered. "Would have saved you the trouble."

"We've had Decepticons test our defenses many times before you arrived. It's probably coincidence."

If you only knew, Artemis caught herself thinking as the two entered the command hub. Chromia was there, running past security logs on at least four different computers. A few others, some Artemis did not recognize, also worked feverishly on different projects, probably in relation to the incident.

"Chromia, anything new?" Elita-One questioned as Artemis strode behind the green female-designate, looking over her shoulder to the logs on the monitors.

"Nothing...power failure from within Shockwave's tower pretty much snapped off the security. It looks like a surge fried the circuits. It was all mechanical; there's no indication of sabotage. Rumble and Frenzy were at the right place at the right time."

"But if a surge killed the security, why were they able to get the space bridge online and operational?" Artemis interjected.

"They work on different systems. We had locked out the space bridge controls on the user side, but the power feed was still operational. Our security we had rigged up was run from a secondary power core located on sub-level seven of the tower. The space bridge has its own power source, located on sub-level twelve, controlled by a series of switches, again activated by user-side commands."

"Have you been able to figure out what they had taken?" Elita-One queried.

"As far as I can tell, nothing," Chromia sighed. "Every access to the main databases had been authorized in the past twenty-five solar cycles."

"Med Lab Alpha to Command Hub."

"Elita-One here, Brits. What is it?"

"I think I found something. Very minute, but I have an unauthorized view of records, searching perimeters 'Unicron Virus.'"

"They were seeing what we knew about the virus," Artemis hissed, as if striking an epiphany. "Soundwave was stricken by it...it makes some sense..."

"They didn't get much; our research in the project is still limited. They would have probably had better luck spying on Autobot City back on Earth."

"Chromia, contact Rodimus Prime and have him run similar security measures, specifically on the virus," Elita-One ordered. "If the Decepticons find the cure before we do, they could use it as a dangerous weapon against any race with electronic capabilities."

"Elita, I think there's more..." Brit's voice took an uncertain dive. "Apollo overheard Rumble and Frenzy talking. You'd better come down here and hear what he has to say."

"I'm on my way. Elita-One, out." Diverting her attention back to Chromia, she instructed, "Continue on the logs. If anything new turns up, hail me in Med Lab One. Artemis, you're with me."

Artemis blinked, then nodded. Internally, she was boiling with rage. Had Rumble betrayed her, even unintentionally? She didn't bother to set up a fall guy on this; would she be able to talk and act her way out of this if things became escalated?

And, what's worse, did Elita suspect her nonetheless, since there was otherwise no proof she was involved?

"They said nothing of you, Arty, if that's what you're fretting about," Starscream breathed close to her head, though his ethereal shrill was nothing more than an echo. "Your brother just placed another nail into Galvatron's coffin, if you place your cards right."

_ You better be right, Flyboy, _ she brooded silently, as she and Elita strode down the hallway to the lift that would take them to the medical floor.

"You're awfully quiet, Artemis," Elita-One broke the silence.

The black femme nodded sullenly.

"I had a rather disturbing dream before you awoke me," she then revealed. "According to that, we were all infected by the virus...but most are simply carriers. According to the file, only a select few are able to access the embedded virus readme, which I think is what causes the dream. This isn't some sort of interface virus...this is a plague."

The pink leader stared at her old friend, her optics betraying her feelings of unbelieving.

"Tell me you're kidding."

"Trust me, Elita, I would want to not believe it as much as you."

"I'm not going to take any chances. If your dream was in fact a readme file, then we're going to work double time on the cure. Did it say anything else?"

"The same thing the initial readme stated. The Quintessons have the answer to the cure."

"So, what do you suggest?"

"Again, I have connections. A very good friend of mine-a neutral party-tracks and hunts Quints; personal vendetta, but that's not important. What is is the fact that he knows where they are, how to trap them, everything."

"Decepticon?"

"In make only. He doesn't like to get involved in the conflict between Decepticons and Autobots. He thinks it's trivial and not worth his time."

"How can we trust him?"

"The question would be for him to trust us." She furrowed her brow as the lift halted on the med floor. "He's an interesting enigma...he knew me as if we were friends prior to me actually knowing who he was. But all that matters is that he may be the key to locating where the Quint bastards are."

"It makes me uneasy, but I'm not going to stop you. If you say you're good friends with him, I'll trust you."

"Thank you."

"Elita!" Brits, in a flash of indigo and gold, raced to the two femmes, staring up at the leader exclusively. "Thank Primus you're here!"

"What's wrong?" Elita-One demanded as the small medic led them to the lab.

"Our medical scanning system...I was running a diagnostic on it, and found a readme file embedded in the command prompt."

"Scrap," Artemis clenched her optics shut.

"The Unicron virus," Elita-One retorted, on the verge of anger.

"Yeah," Brits nodded somewhat, sorrowfully. "It's shown up elsewhere?"

"It seems to be infecting everyone, as a carrier, for the most part," Artemis stated coolly.

_ "Elita-One, it's Chromia," _ the green femme's face appeared on the comm monitor to Elita's left.  _ "Kup has told us of an unauthorized access to their research data banks, dated two Earth days ago. Also, Zodiac needs to speak to Brits." _

"I'll get it in my office," Brits nodded, and departed company from Elita and Artemis.

"Two Earth days ago," Elita-One shook her head. "Chromia, did Kup say if he knew who it was, or at least a vague idea?"

"The information was accessed internally, meaning-"

"Rumble or Frenzy," Artemis interjected.

"Unless it was another one of the spy cassettes," Elita stated.

"Don't say any more, Arty," Starscream warned. Something in his voice was off, as if he had overexerted himself. "You're not supposed to know anything, remember?"

"Better check with Skyfire to see if he had any stowaways," Artemis suggested.

"Agreed. Chromia, will you-"

_ "I'm on it, Elita! Chromia, out!" _

"I don't like this, Artemis," Elita shook her head.

"What? Our creators are trying to kill us?" Artemis chortled cynically. "I wouldn't either."

"Apollo," the pink femme suddenly interjected, striding to the sectioned area in the far corner.

"Oh, yes, ignore the poor guy in pain here," Apollo's voice drifted wearily from beyond the partition.

"Good idea," Artemis rifled back, as if two million stellar cycles of separation was nothing more than a week's vacation. "Wouldn't want to disturb you from healing up; after all, you need to prepare for your next asskicking."

"Is that any way to pity your poor younger brother after what your buddies did to me?"

Rolling her optics, Artemis joined Elita behind the partition, striking a hip shot with her arms akimbo, staring down at the male with distinctively similar chassis styling lying before her, his chest and midsection wrapped in protective healing patches.

"You got whooped by two guys who barely stand higher than your knee, and you expect me to boohoo over that? Feh."

"Hey, they fought dirty!"

"So? Fight dirty back. Scrap, I'm almost ashamed to roll off the assembly line five clicks before you." She then sat on the edge of the cot and smirked. "Brits told us you overheard the twerps who did this to you. What'd they say?"

Apollo's face lost the look of jest abruptly.

"Elita, I think Starscream's still alive..." he whimpered.

Elita stepped back, surprised. Artemis feinted her shock convincingly, as Starscream threw back his translucent head and mirthfully laughed.

"Apollo, if Starscream was alive, I would be the first to know it," Artemis then reclaimed her cool exterior. "I saw his remains in the Decepticon Hall of Leaders. He's very much dead."

"However, perhaps we can convince the Autobots otherwise," the ghost sneered. "Paranoia makes an excellent cover."

"What else did they say?" Elita then asked, oblivious to the spectre.

"'Okay, Screamer, you better be helping out here...this is, after all, your plan.' That's exactly what Rumble said," the light blue male-designate retorted sharply. "How can he be dead if they're talking about him as if he were still alive?"

"Even graver the situation becomes," Elita closed her optics. "If Starscream is indeed alive-"

"He's dead. I know it," Artemis stated forcefully. "I saw his remains! Galvatron threatened me shortly after he killed him."

"Still, whether it is the real Starscream or someone carrying in his name, we need to investigate. Artemis, what was the state of the Decepticon army when you left?"

"When I left? Those who were truly loyal to Galvatron were few and far between, but powerful, nonetheless. The old-style Decepticons you used to fight during the Great War are restless. They aren't happy under Galvatron's rule, but are afraid to overthrow him. Cyclonus is really the one in charge. That's all I really paid attention to. There was some hushed rumours about a rebellion against the Minions, but nothing more than that...again, I tried to stay out of any and all so-called 'politics.'"

"Then the Decepticons are weakened, and I have an idea," Elita patted Apollo on the shoulder. "Heal up, old friend. We're going to need you again soon."

"Not as much as I need you, sweetheart," Apollo smiled coyly.

"Oh, please," Artemis groaned. "I've heard better pick-up lines in a tavern."

"And I bet you said half of them," Apollo rifled back.

"But at least I was successful." She slid off the cot to her feet. "Heal up so you may be beaten around some more."

"Oh, I feel so unloved."

"Ain't it the truth," Artemis saluted him quickly with a wink, though her face still held a mask of sullenness as she and Elita-One returned to the lift.

Meanwhile, Brits, a datapad in one hand, the other flying over a keyboard, was in a state of dismay.

There were three stages of the virus known thus far, she and Zodiac, with Perceptor off screen, had concluded; the first was the initial carrier, the second was Stage One, introduced when the carrier came in contact with a catalyst from a similar stimuli. Stage Two required another catalyst, yet again from a similar stimuli...it was difficult to actually theorise when exactly the virus actually plateaued, or even what the catalyst and stimuli were exactly. The macrochip Artemis had initially stolen from the humans had no clues; it was now useless, totally wiped of any other information, at least as far as they could tell.

"We are so bloody screwed," Brits moaned, resting her head on the desk. Her forte was more of the practical aspects and execution of medical practice; research was a far second in her duties. But this virus was something they needed every able person to figure out, especially in the threat that everyone and anyone could be a carrier and possible catalyst to it.

There were still too many questions to be answered, too many doors that needed to be opened, and the keys were still lost.

"What's your idea?" Artemis demanded bluntly as Elita-One pressed the command glyph to the lift.

"This virus should be our first priority. We cannot be troubled by the Decepticons in the meantime." Elita-One regarded Artemis with a curious smile. "As much as I hate to resort to this, desperate times call for desperate measures. We're going to drive more of a wedge between the Decepticons. If they fight amongst themselves, they won't bother us as much in our research."

"A little bit of guerilla tactics, I see."

"Exactly. If we send word that we have beliefs that Starscream is alive..."

"There's the perfect message to send to Sonyx, right there. If she catches wind of rumours that Starscream is still alive, that's enough to get her rallied enough to attempt staging her own coup...am I getting ahead of myself?"

"I think I know what you're saying. Give Sidewinder information, then let him go."

"The rumours flying alone would split apart the Decepticons. The factions would be concentrating more on fighting amongst themselves rather than attacking us, and even if they did, we can handle small raids." Artemis laughed shortly. "Primus, Elita, are all Autobot femmes as devious as us?"

"The boys can fist-fight all they want," the pink leader smiled playfully, "but with this situation at hand, it would prove better to defeat our enemies from within."

They stepped out of the lift simultaneously, near the doorway to the gaol level, where they paused to continue their conversation.

"Exactly what I'm thinking," Artemis's own smile morphed into a smirk, a glint in her optics that Elita failed to notice. "Galvatron wouldn't stand a chance if his own troops revolted against him."

And as long as he knew, she appended silently, who had designed and directed this scheme before his optics dimmed one last time, her revenge would be complete.

"Artemis," Elita's face suddenly hardened, "I need to know the truth. I know you too well, and I know you would protect him if need be...but truthfully, is Starscream really dead?"

"Protect him? Feh. If he was still alive, you would know it, and not from me. He's very much dust and scrap."

"A posthumous arrangement, perhaps?"

"Perhaps. The Combaticons, maybe. Overall, they were loyal more to him than to Megatron. But they're not exactly team players, if you catch my drift, and combined, they're so much in competition with each other, it makes Bruticus weak in the mentality department."

"Again, what Apollo told us, Rumble sounded like he was asking Starscream for help."

"You really got me there, Elita. Starscream is dead. I saw his remains, and I remember Galvatron very distinctively warning me that if I stepped an iota out of line, I was going to end up like him."

"I see...but is there a possibility that he would have faked his death? From what I remember, Megatron had found a way to make copies of Transformers, controlled by remote. Perhaps Starscream still had that technology, he could have easily made a duplicate of himself in the event of an attempted usurping. "Without telling me? Plausible, yes, but he would have told me his plans prior to it."

"Let them think it, Arty," Starscream murmured over her shoulder. "You said so yourself it would benefit us if the Decepticons believed I was alive...Rumble knows the truth anyway."

She wanted to discuss this further with him, but not in front of Elita-One. She needed to get somewhere private.

"Artemis, look," the pink femme bowed her head somewhat, "Even during the Great Wars, I knew you were following your heart...but, as much as it hurts me to say this, but perhaps you should think that maybe he finally betrayed you."

"An interesting theory," Starscream's voice now came from behind Elita-One. "A pity the thought never dawned on me, but then, who would have expected Galvatron to make his debut known? In any case, I have found a few advantages to being without a shell...as proven now. You may think of me alive, Elita-One, and in a way, you are correct...as long as the extension of my hand remains within your custody...as long as she walks amongst you as you continue to believe she is indeed defected to your side...as long as she carries out my instructions in my name...I am very much alive...and those who prove their loyalty to me are justly rewarded..."

Elita, of course, was not aware of the spectre's explanation; she remained silent, searching Artemis's face for any reaction, any expression, only to meet with cold stoism.

"Unless," she finally broke the silence, "you are not telling me the entire truth."

"I don't like to lie, Elita; it doesn't suit my purpose."

"You are known to omit parts of the truth, however."

"What is there to omit? I was never officially with the Decepticons, remember? Megatron hired me on occasion, and of late, Galvatron...Galvatron owes me a lot more than energon and credits, but I can't go back, I can't confront him, or he'll kill me. If I knew anything about them, I will tell you. And yes, normally that information would cost, but seeing I owe my life to the Autobots, that's payment enough. I'm telling you everything I know of what the Decepticons are up to, what I overheard, what I saw, everything. You can believe what you want; I told you what I know."

"That's all I ask, then." The leader exhaled deeply. "You may return to your quarters."

Without so much of a good-bye, Artemis turned sharply on her heel and returned to the lift, as Elita-One diverted her attention to the partially open door.

As planned, she thought with a slight smile. Sidewinder would have overheard everything.

Pushing the door open, she then ventured into the hold, gazing at the Seeker on the other side of the force bars, who seemed to be attempting a weak attempt at dozing off.

"Sunsnare, this is Elita-One," she activated the comm next to her.

_ "Sunsnare here, ma'am. Whatcha need?" _

"I need an escort detail for the Decepticon. Take him out of the system."

_ "Yes, ma'am. Longshock and I will be down there momentarily. Sunsnare out." _

"Well, my friend, it seems to be your lucky day," she stated curtly to Sidewinder. He shook his head melodramatically, blinked as if he had truly been disturbed from his nap.

"Whu...?"

"You're being released. You pose no real threat to us. You'll be escorted to the edge of our system, any you will not return to Cybertron, or else you will be dealt with in a more severe manner."

"Heh. Cool." Sidewinder stood, issuing a false yawn. "No problem. Think I can handle that."

Elita-One shot him a look of contempt that quieted him before pivoting on the ball of her foot, leaving the hold with an authoritarian stride.

Sidewinder chuckled a bit.

"Oh, yes, I think I can handle that very much," he added under his breath.

***

"The trap is baited and set, Arty," Starscream materialized beside her as she returned to the guest quarters. "The joke for a Decepticon heard everything you and Elita-One had said. But, may I remind you, we do not wish to weaken the Decepticons loyal to our cause...only the Minions."

"I know...but knowing Sonyx, she won't attack Galvatron yet. She'll end up at Four Winds, looking for me to gloat at." Artemis kicked back on the recharge bed, staring up at the ceiling with one leg crossed atop her elevated knee. "It'll be an act of Primus to keep me from shooting her then and there. Which brings me to the second situation. My own escort. I've got to find a way to ditch her and Skyfire until I am sure they're on our side." She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, making a dull, metallic popping noise. "A bar fight will ensure, I know it. I could have one staged easily; Minerva will take care of that. Also, Drez warned me Scourge has been visiting the bar lately, looking for me. A challenge, nonetheless, but I can handle it."

"Just remember why you're doing this, Artemis," Starscream interjected.

"I know, Flyboy. I got the bases covered." She shot him a sidewards glance out of the corner of her optic. "What's wrong? You seem a little...well...tired..."

"Shortcircuiting Shockwave's defense systems were more complicated than I thought. I will recover."

"Good, because I still need your help on this. I won't do this without you, alive or dead."

"You would not avenge me if you could not see or hear me?" His tone took a dangerous, almost angered, dive.

"I wouldn't be able to...I would end up slagged myself, with nothing accomplished." Her own voice also changed, becoming more soothing, seductive. "Face it, Flyboy...like it or not, we're a team."

"One to be reckoned with at that," he scoffed, before vanishing.

"Yes, indeed," Artemis agreed quietly, before drifting into a dreamless sleep.

***

Charr

The felinoid Decepticon ventured outside the cavern entrance, on legs shaking somewhat, red optics betraying the pain inside his neural processor, slowly reformatting his brain into...what, no one was sure. Yet he still functioned, knowing exactly what was happening.

It was common belief that, because of his inability to speak in anything but growls, snarls, hisses, and yowls, he lacked the intelligence of any other Decepticon, when in truth, he was perhaps the smartest of the spy cassettes, as well as one who was unable to be interrogated by normal means, due to the common misperception of his mentality.

At that moment, however, Ravage's logic circuits were replaced by agony with each thought that traveled through his brain.

His head snapped up as a gold light suddenly appeared from his left. With a quizzical mew, he padded over to the disturbance. As sudden as it was, it dispersed, leaving a disoriented Rumble and Frenzy in its wake.

"It's rough riding without a receiving port," Frenzy grumbled, shaking his head.

"No, really?" Rumble retorted sardonically. "I would have never guessed."

Ravage yowled shortly, a happy greeting, as he raced to meet up with his brothers.

"Hey, Ravage!" Frenzy chuckled, just before being tackled by the large felinoid. "How's the noggin?"

Ravage whimpered, backing away from the two, shaking his head somewhat before burying it under his paws.

"Poor guy," Rumble shook his head. "Hey, we brought you back something...might help out with the pain. We found it out by accident, really...it might wipe some temporary files, but overall..." He held out his arm and pressed a button, popping out his magnetic recording head. Tentatively, Ravage ventured towards his purple and black brother, head bent, though one optics twitched somewhat, betraying some fear. "It's okay, Ravage...it was done to me earlier...it might not be a permanent fix, but at least it's something."

With a slight nod, the felinoid padded closer to Rumble, his head still bowed somewhat, wincing as the recording head came into contact with the panel near his auditory sensor.

"We'd better let the nut know we're back," Frenzy stated, glancing over his shoulder.

"In a click," Rumble retorted as Ravage relaxed somewhat. "Is that better?"

Ravage stepped back, dimming his optics as he ran a self-diagnostic. Meeting Rumble's optics, he nodded.

"Well, as long as we know it works, at least temporarily," the red and black cassette pointed out, leading the two into the caverns of the makeshift Decepticon base, only to run headlong into the last surviving Seeker in Galvatron's army.

"Brought back any news?" Thundercracker questioned, his deep baritone practically resonating the air around them.

"We may have something! Rumble found it on Earth!" Frenzy answered excitedly, bolting on ahead, with Ravage on his heels. Rumble, drifting back a ways, quickly scanned the area before tossing something up at the larger Decepticon.

"I never gave that to you," the spy cassette growled, storming off after his two brothers.

The blue and white Seeker, perplexed, caught the small disk, staring at the Decepticon logo on its surface. Looking over his shoulder, he continued on his way outside. It was sheer coincidence he had guard detail that night. Could it be...?

Checking his back once more, he lit his jets, flying to the overhang above the entrance and sat, still studying the disk. The size was just right for a head-trip disk.

Finally, after a quarter-megacycle of contemplation, he opened his data reader on his arm and inserted the disk. In the left-hand corner of his vision, he noticed a little "play" icon. Quickly, he moved his hand to meet the icon in his vision. The sensor relay registered, and instantly, a biped form appeared in front of him, a low-resolution image of...

"Artemis?" he mouthed silently.

"Thundercracker, old friend," the image spoke: smooth, cool, collective. "If you've received this message, then you may heed it or ignore it if you fear for your life. In any case, destroy the disk afterwards. Roughly on Solar Cycle 143 of this stellar cycle, I will be at our usual meeting place. I wish to discuss between you and the Combaticons further plans. If that is impossible, then I will understand, and will find another way to talk to you later on. Remember, if anything does happen and you need a quick escape, Darxtar and Drez will help you. Good luck, my friend, and I hope to see you soon."

The image faded, and Thundercracker blinked, dazed. The plan was still going into effect, even though she lost her footing here. She was willing to risk her standing with the Autobots as well to get rid of Galvatron.

As much as he didn't want to get involved, he knew it was the right thing to do. And he didn't have much time. She had given a date that was barely two solar cycles away. He had to decide quickly.

Galvatron must be stopped.

Head still swimming, he ejected the disk and crushed it reluctantly. If he decided to go or not, it didn't matter. If Galvatron found the disk, he would suspect Thundercracker.

One thing Thundercracker hated was confrontation. Especially with someone as insane as the Decepticon leader.

Deep in thought, he gazed to the jagged horizon.

At least she gave him a choice.

With a heavy sigh, he began weighing his options carefully, attempting to figure out every and any possible avenue of attack.

*

Galvatron never looked pleased these days.

Of course, who wouldn't? He truly believed his Decepticons had sunk to the dregs, lost. He failed to see what had brought them down so far, ever since he had returned to them to rally their pride, ever since he banished the traitor Blitzwing.

Cyclonus, on the other hand, saw very clearly what had transpired in the past solar cycles. But rather than dwell on the fact and attempt to aid his leader back onto the road of sanity, he played on it, flexing his own ability to manipulate the mad Decepticon. The others knew who was really in charge, and dared not question Cyclonus's quiet power over Galvatron.

When Rumble and Frenzy returned, with Ravage running between them as if he was a cyber-kitten again, Cyclonus saw it as a mixed omen.

"Rumble, Frenzy, report!" Galvatron ordered, the scowl still etched on his face, glaring down at Ravage, who finally calmed down and padded towards the archway to the makeshift lab.

"We found something the Autobots hadn't yet," Rumble piped up, a dopey grin flashing across his face. "An low-end electromagnetic pulse will hold the virus at bay. Not sure how long it will last-"

"And what do the Autobots know?" Cyclonus demanded, before receiving a swift backhand from Galvatron.

"Silence!" the leader ordered. Resuming his attention to Rumble, he repeated Cyclonus's query. "What do the Autobots know?"

"Absolutely nothing," Frenzy retorted. "They're not bothering much with the virus; they're more worried about the random attacks from Decepticon splinter groups."

"Excellent," Galvatron chortled. "A low-end electromagnetic pulse, you say? Mindsurge!" He suddenly roared into Scourge's auditory. The Sweep commander started somewhat at the abrupt shout as the yellow, green and black medic poked his head out of the lab, kicking Ravage out of the way. Both Rumble and Frenzy gritted teeth, advancing somewhat to avenge their brother as Ravage snapped at Mindsurge's heel before heading back to his brothers.

"You bellowed, my lord?" Mindsurge questioned, deadpan.

"Report on your findings."

"I haven't been able to make much progress, save that this virus has two forms: carrier and the full blown staged in which Soundwave has been experiencing. Where as the staged virus is infected by interface, the carrier, from what I can see, infected Cybertronians on moment of creation from Vector Sigma."

"Meaning this is actually a Quintesson virus?" Cyclonus questioned.

"That, I'm not sure, but it is a plausible theory. It seems that the virus was actually nothing more than a failsafe for the Quintessons in the case we revolted against them, to turn us off, as they attempted to do last stellar cycle. Otherwise, it is harmless. That is, until it comes into contact with a catalyst, such as what we had experienced with Soundwave."

"And this is only a theory?" Galvatron queried.

"A hypothesis seemingly closest to the truth, yes."

"Rumble, Frenzy, inform them of your findings."

"I came into contact with an electromagnetic pulse," Rumble retorted slowly, betraying his apparent anger for Mindsurge's lash out at Ravage. "It was an Autobot failsafe meant to erase any data I recorded...however, afterwards, I ran a scandisk and found that the virus had been downgraded to early Stage One."

"Practically the carrier itself," Mindsurge nodded. "And you, Frenzy?"

"Rumble used his own recording head on me and Ravage," the red and black spy cassette revealed. "It seems to work just the same. Any temporary files are erased in the process, however."

"The three of you, get in here. My lord," Mindsurge bowed to Galvatron, "with your permission, I would like to study one of your Minions. If my theory holds true, then an answer to the cure might be found in your Unicron-built shells."

"Scourge, assist him!" Galvatron barked without much thought to the request. Scourge winced, ready to comply with his master's orders.

"My lord," Cyclonus interjected with a hiss, "is that wise? Surely one of the drones-"

"Are you questioning my decision, Cyclonus?"

"Er...no, sir, but-"

"Scourge! You have your orders! Cyclonus, do not cross me. The only reason why you are still alive is that, even with your doubting nature, you would never usurp me." His attention reverted to Rumble and Frenzy as they begrudgedly followed Mindsurge. "One more thing, Rumble."

The purple spy cassette looked back at the leader.

"Yes, Galvatron?"

"The traitor. Did you find anything of her?"

"You mean Arty?" Rumble questioned innocently as Frenzy made a slight clicking noise that translated, quite bluntly to Rumble, into "We're fragged!" "Not a peep."

"I have a feeling she will attempt another strike at me," Galvatron growled. "After Scourge is done assisting Mindsurge, he and the Combaticons are to search out all neutral places where she is known to frequent."

"My lord, shouldn't we send our own?" Cyclonus questioned. "We cannot trust the Combaticons fully-"

"They know most of her hangouts, and, if not, Thundercracker knows the rest. Scourge will manage them well; at least I have full confidence in him to succeed."

"Still, my lord, I would feel more comfortable if Scourge took some of his Sweeps with him."

"But of course, Cyclonus! We must failsafe the failsafes, correct?"

"As you command, sir." Cyclonus nodded somewhat before venturing from Galvatron's side, deep in thought.

"Now, Scourge, this won't hurt a bit," Mindsurge reassured, "and for once, I mean it. Just relax. All I'm going to do is put you in rest mode so that I may have an easier time to scan for any virus, specifically Unicron's, in your CPU."

Scourge, upon seeing the prone spymaster on the next cot over, optics betraying the pain of the reformatting as well as the occasional moan, only tensed up more. Rumble, Frenzy, and Ravage gathered around him as Ratbat, Laserbeak, and Buzzsaw looked down on him from their perch in the rafters, all three with a severe twitch.

"I will not end up like him?" he demanded, nodding over to Soundwave.

"No; it seems you may have an immunity to the effects, being Unicron-spawn," Mindsurge rebutted with a testy edge. "I aim to find out how it works. And you needn't worry about me playing around in your head that much; I know what Galvatron is capable of, and I don't want to be on the receiving end of the his cannon."

"I don't trust you," Scourge affirmed, finally laying down on his cot.

"Well, that's good for you, then," the medic sneered as he pressed a panel on Scourge's neck, forcing the Sweep commander to enter rest mode. "That's good for you."

Scourge's vision faded, all the surroundings flooded to blinding white, then dropped to pitch black. His awareness, however, seemed heightened; he could sense Mindsurge's closeness as the medic hooked up the medical scanner to his neck interface, he could sense-but not hear-Rumble and Frenzy talking quietly to Soundwave and the other spy cassettes...but nothing more, nothing heard, nothing seen...

...Wait.

Before him was a single feather, glossy black with a purple tip, suspended before him. Reaching out towards it, he found quite surprisingly that he could take hold of it, study it. At first, it seemed like a normal feather from an Earth bird of some sorts, a pinion; however, upon closer inspection, tiny tech veins crisscrossed the shaft, and the feather itself was comprised of some extremely lightweight hybrid metal.

As he pondered it further, he abruptly grew aware of laughter behind him...hauntingly familiar, eerily disturbing.

Angrily, he turned around to face the laugh, clutching the pinion.

"Who's there? Identify yourself!" he commanded.

Instead, the laughter intensified, as a brilliant light from afar snapped on, a searchlight of some sorts. Silhouetted within was a winged creature standing before it, much like the mythical Earth angel.

But something told Scourge this was no angel according to Earth legends.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"'Who are you?'" The creature chided mockingly, the voice striking at Scourge's spark. "I am more of what I stand for at this moment...a reminder to you that Unicron screwed you up the tailpipe on this virus bit. A reminder that you will be the last Minion to go, but the one who gets all the guilt resting on your shoulders. Sucks to be you. Trust me, I know."

"Who are you, Primus-dammit!"

The creature laughed again, venturing closer towards Scourge. Appearing to be some odd mesh of bird, organic biped, and mechanoid, it was black with purple with striking blue eyes-no, optical sensors, Scourge could see the mechanoid pupils and irises dilating as it stormed closer. Sharply featured face, it sported a blond beard and moustache in a similar style to Scourge's own.

"I'm from Unicron's past and future, a memory he implanted in you upon your reformat," the creature chortled. "And that's all you need to know about me. Save one thing." Holding out a taloned hand, the index finger and thumb outstretched with the others folded in a fist, pointing to the Sweep Commander. "Or rather, one thing about you."

With a fluid motion, the winged creature made a cocking and firing gesture with his hand towards Scourge.

"Bang. You're dead, Scrouge."

The Sweep commander suddenly felt a rush of pain through his spark, bolting him up from the nightmare, optics wide in shock.

Mindsurge stared at the sight, his optics wide as the scanner in his hand nearly dropped. He fumbled to catch it, swiftly studying the readings before returning to Scourge's side.

"What is it?" Mindsurge demanded. "Tell me what happened!"

The Minion blinked, his vision focusing, taking into the fact that he was still on Charr, still in Mindsurge's lab, Soundwave was still writhing in agony nearby, and he was still online.

"Nothing happened, save for your petty excuses!" The Sweep commander snatched out to the smaller Decepticon, taking hold of his throat. "I grow weary of this! What were your findings? Or shall I report to Lord Galvatron that your research was a total failure?"

"No!" Mindsurge gasped somewhat. "I...I found that...Unicron...I...I can't..."

Scourge released the medic with a forceful shove, standing.

"Continue," he ordered coldly.

After a series of coughs, Mindsurge did just that.

"Unicron did indeed plant a virus in you, a sort of readme file. I was able to access it partially before you awoke, screaming."

"Then...you were the one who hacked into my spark."

"Spark? Oh, no. I couldn't have been able to do that. Not with this primitive equipment, that is." With a rough gesture of his hand, the medic made a sweep of his lab. "The virus's work, no doubt. However, I believe that because you were reprogrammed by Unicron, the virus works differently than in normal Decepticons. Which may explain what is causing Galvatron's dementia..." Mindsurge suddenly possessed a glazed over look to his optics as he turned to his computer. "Yes, it is starting to make sense now. You may leave, Scourge...and inform Galvatron that I am making progress. That is all."

"Hey, what about the boss here?" Frenzy ordered. "We can't get a large enough EM to help him!"

"Be patient, you simpletons!" Mindsurge snapped. "One thing at a time! Why don't you help your siblings in the rafters first while you wait."

Ravage glanced upward and yowled somewhat, then shook his head, emitting a series of growls and hisses.

"They're not coming down until you help the boss," Rumble translated.

"Idiots!" the medic slammed down a datapad as Scourge slipped out of the lab. "Can't you see I'm working here?"

"No," Rumble and Frenzy retorted collectively, joined in a strange mew from Ravage, sounding like a negative response.

"Out! All of you! Leave me now or I'll dissect each and everyone of you! OUT!"

The coherent spy cassettes, startled at his outburst, took up a defensive stand before retreating out of the lab.

"We're going! Don't get your fuel lines in a twist," Frenzy grumbled. To his brother, he then pleaded, "Can we at least kill him?"

"He's our only medic."

"Damn."

Ravage growled, then added another procession of hisses and mews.

"Good point," both biped cassettes agreed to their felinoid brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"That. That vision...that was technorganic," Elder rubbed her chin. "But I don't recognise her. Or at least her aspect. Was she an iteration?"  
>  "An aborted one, perhaps, or an amalgamation of others. It was definitely a corruption of sorts," Mac agreed. "An interesting development, indeed."   
> "Could this virus be multidimensional?" Elder questioned.  
> "A possibility. Unicron is a constant, after all."  
> "The fact that Starscream and Unicron are both constants disturbs me to no end," Elder grumbled. "We need to learn more about the virus while we still search for Metroplex's -- what are we looking for again?"  
> Mac sighed, shoulders drooping. "That would be Black's focus. We're looking for...schematics of sorts. But not. It's more of searching for the spark signature. A key to restart him in her reality, so to speak."  
> "Trypticon was also mentioned," Elder reminded.  
> "So he was," Mac nodded dismissively._


	8. Truths Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thundercracker and Onslaught get the ball rolling on their last-ditch coup, but first, to get rid of Scourge at the first possible moment.

"Thundercracker!"

A good two megacycles had passed since the blue and white Seeker ventured out on guard duty. He would have expected at least eight more before he was relieved. But by the tone of Onslaught's voice, something else was admiss.

Thundercracker looked down from his perch upon the Combaticon leader, his red optics still betraying deep thoughts of some sorts running through his neural processor. "What it is?"

"Galvatron wants us to go find Arty," Onslaught snorted.

"I thought he was going to let the Autobots deal with her."

"I think he's scared," the ground attack unit chortled, glancing back into the entrance to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "Six of us, six Sweeps and Scourge for one lousy merc."

"He doesn't want to underestimate her," Thundercracker suggested softly.

"A waste of energy, if you ask me. Should just send the Sweeps."

"We know all her hideouts."

"So? Send you then with them."

"Onslaught, you know of her allies, and I'm not talking about the Autobots." With a forceful exhale, Thundercracker lept from his perch and landed in front of the Combaticon leader. "There's more."

"What?"

"How bad do you want to get rid of the Decepticon's problem?" Thundercracker's voice dipped dramatically, a very low rumble.

"You mean...?" Onslaught nodded towards the Decepticon base. "Heh. I've got no loyalties to him, save for the fact I might end up like our dearly departed Air Commander...good riddance to that."

"Can I trust you to not turn around and stab me in the back by reporting this to him?" Thundercracker's optics narrowed violently.

Onslaught's own optics betrayed a smirk. "As much as any other Decepticon, loyal to Megatron."

"That's what I was afraid of." With a stolen glance, he added, "You were never loyal to Megatron."

"What's your plan?"

"I recieved a message from Art. She's had a plan to overthrow him, cut short when Unicron 'betrayed' her."

"I know that much. Go on."

"I know where she'll be in the next solar cycle. Usual place. She wants to meet up with us to confirm some plans, whatever they may be."

"She didn't elaborate?"

"Would you?" Thundercracker's baritone took another strange dive, one laced with sarcasm.

"Good point. So what makes you think she's not leading us into an Autobot trap?"

"I've known her since before the Great War. She has no reason to betray me."

"What if the Autobots give her a reason?"

"I doubt it. If they could convince her otherwise, then she wouldn't have contacted me."

"How?"

"It's not important. Are you with me, Onslaught?"

"If I'm not?"

"Galvatron will start making connections. He'll doubt your loyalty more than ever; if it wasn't for Starscream, your sparks would still be stuck in detention. He might trace every connection Starscream made, and destroy them. You, me, Art, the other Combaticons..."

"Pretty much all us real Decepticons," Onslaught's optics narrowed as he took on a perplexed expression. "I see the pattern. And damned I'll be if I let that bastard kill the reason why we're fighting the Autobots in the first place."

Thundercracker chose not to say anything; he was tired of the fighting, personally; the only reasons why he did was his brothers edging him along with them, and now both Starscream and Skywarp were gone.

"Yeah, I'm in," Onslaught finally broke the silence. "So long that I get to lead."

"I've got no problem with that," Thundercracker lied. It was better and overall wiser to let Onslaught believe that at the present moment.

"But what do you have in stake of this?" the Combaticon demanded.

The Seeker scoffed somewhat. "My life. I've got nothing to gain save getting rid of something that's plaguing us to failure. I've got nothing to lose but my life and spark. Make sense?"

"It's enough for me, I suppose," Onslaught shook his head, just before the hollowed sound of metal footsteps upon cold stone alerted them of another's presence. At the time that Thundercracker brought his attention up to the newcomer, Scourge landed a swift backhand to the Seeker, sending him reeling back as the Sweep commander stared up at Onslaught with barely checked contempt.

_Had he overheard us?_ Thundercracker pondered briefly before pushing himself up to his knees. No...if he had, Scourge would have killed both him and Onslaught. Scourge's superiority complex, he finally rationalized bitterly. Seekers were obsolete, to him.

With a sudden, sinking feeling, he realised how much he missed Skywarp.

"I was informing him of the situation," he overheard Onslaught retort to Scourge's demand. Shaking the hit from his memory, Thundercracker stood, fighting the reflex to coldclock the Sweep right back.

"We move out in three megacycles," Scourge snapped, refusing to grant Thundercracker acknowledgement.

_Why, Scourge?_ the blue and white Seeker thought sardonically. _Are you ashamed by me...or by yourself, Skywarp?_

"I am so sick of their holier-than-thou attitude," Onslaught grumbled for Thundercracker only. "I'll be glad when we get rid of the whole lot of them."

"All in good time," Thundercracker hissed, "but Scourge is mine, even if it's the last battle I fight."

"Consider it done," Onslaught agreed.

***

Four Winds Bar  
Sirius II

Both sides of the joint was nonstop bump-and-grind action. On the surface, it seemed to be a very popular hangout for sentients of all races, for food and spirits, to get together and dance, drink, and be merry.

Underneath the establishment's guise, as the unsuspecting patron wouldn't know, was the elaborate hired guild and black market. Sirians were known for their longevity; it took Drez three hundred years to build up from a shady honky-tonk to the bustling empire he had before him.

And Drez was not one to take all the credit. Without the help of the Decepticon on the other side of the bar, serving the larger sentient races, and Minnie, who was also across the bar, in her larger transtector frame, he might have not been able to keep up with the times.

Shooting a glance over at this middle wife, decked in black leather and prowling the crowded floor; she smiled warmly with a nod as he served up another beer to a Betelguesean trader.

The bar itself was successful. Every night was for the most part packed with people; his oldest wife Shon, also his bookkeeper, had suggested taking reservations at one point. But then, that would nullify the phrase "open bar", now, wouldn't it?

Upstairs, the music was dulled to the point of the bass and drums. Luke, now in a sparse room about ten meters square, complete with an adjacent bathroom, stared up at the ceiling as he reclined on the bed. It was the first time he could remember that he actually slept in a real, clean bed. He had prior to laying down took a two hour shower, cut short due to Brin hammering at the door so that she didn't have to deal with a cold shower herself. Wearing a clean, brand new pair of cargo jeans, but bare chested and foot, he gently swung one leg at the knee in time to the beat from downstairs.

It made him feel human again, even though he was surrounded by life alien to him. Yet they saved him from an unknown threat, gave him a place to stay, perhaps even a job, let alone away from Hell's Pantry.

A sudden stab of guilt shot through his heart. The Gordens, Tabby...even Tobias...those he realised he considered his friends...they were still there, stuck in a dead end with no way out. He had been lucky, relatively. Outer space bad guys went to find him, the outer space good guys saved him and brought him here. Sort of like an old eighties movie, only without the video game test.

Mind racing, he sat up, burying his head in his arms as he brought his knees to his chest.

He still had to make up for what he had done to Cavalier, he chided himself. He didn't want to drag her into the mess he had gotten himself into.

Finally, scooted off the bed, padding silently to the wall monitor on the far side of the room. The touch pad was written in the Sirian language: the long, varied scratches criss-crossing each other similar to Sumerian cuniform; underneath, in label tape, was the English equivalents.

He pressed the one marked "kitchen." Instantly, the monitor blipped on, exposing the brightly lit kitchen, where Waspinator was tackling quite literally a stack of dishes and mugs.

"Waspy?" Luke beckoned softly, hoping not to alarm the Predacon. Still, Waspinator jumped, dropping two mugs. With a defeated turn, the wasp buzzed over to the comm.

"Yes, Lukiebot?" he questioned sullenly. "Lukiebot make quick...Waspinator have lots to do tonight."

"Is it possible to contact Earth from these things?" For emphasis, he tapped the monitor.

"Affirmative. Cost a bit, though. A bit staticy unless using digital feed. Analog no good off Sirius II."

"Any lag time?"

"Five click delay to Earth. Three click to Cybertron. Waspinator know that much. Now, may Waspinator go back to work?"

"Sorry to bother you. I was just curious, and I didn't think I could reach Minnie in the bar."

"Any time. Waspinator glad to help out friend."

Luke smiled, and ended the transmission. Stepping back, he regarded the panel with a scrutinizing eye, then pressed the outgoing call button.

"Please wait," a growl of a mechanical female voice ordered, as a logo of a blue gibbious moon with a wave pattern filled the screen, the Sirian script across the logo with the English translation - Sirius Commications Group - underneath. "Thank you for waiting. If you know your caller's fourteen digit world and country code, please enter it now. If not, state world, country, province or state, and city after the beep."

Luke waited for the beep, a sort of resonating chime. "Earth-"

"Earth is not the recognized name under Sirian Communications Codes of Broadcast. For Sol III, press one. For Betelguese IV, press two. For Tau Seti I, press three-"

Luke pressed the "one" glyph, wondering half-heartedly how many other sentient races referred to their home planet as Earth.

"Thank you. Please continue."

"United States of America, Oregon...Autobot City."

"Thank you. Please state collect or direct."

"Direct, please."

"Thank you. Please state party's name you wish to contact."

"Cavalier."

"Thank you. Please enter your twenty-five digit account code now."

Yikes. An obstacle he hadn't expected. Focusing his concentration on the panel, he willed a quick decryption for the public codes to the Four Winds. There was an abrupt click.

"Thank you. Your call will be connected shortly."

Luke exhaled, his foot tapping somewhat, feeling the bass from downstairs resonate the floor. Another click, and a male voice - the deejay from KBOT, he realised- answered. _"Good morning! Autobot City!"_

"Good day. This is a call for Cavalier."

_"Yeah, hold up on sec. Yo, Cav, horn's for you!"_

There was a slight muttering on the other end, as well as a chair scraping across a metal floor.

_"Cavalier here,"_ she stated.

_"Thank you,"_ The Sirian Communications voice remarked. _"You may speak freely with the calling party. Thank you for using SCG."_

No visual, he grumbled to himself, as the screen remained emblazoned with the SCG logo. "Cavalier, it's Luke."

_"Luke? Primus, you okay? You wouldn't believe the slottin' zoo around here about you..."_

That was a relief, he exhaled. She didn't hate him. "Yeah, I'm fine, Cav. I'm safe, and hopefully I took the bad guys with me. Look, Cav, I just wanted to apologize...I wish I could do it face to face, but this will have to do...I'm sorry for bringing you in this."

_"Oh, forgive and forget, I like to say,"_ she chortled. _"'Cept with the damn 'Cons...anyway, you gonna be okay? Where are you?"_

"I'll be okay, Cav. Got my own room, shower, and perhaps even a job. It might be better for me here anyway, so I don't cause you guys any more trouble. As for where it is...I'd rather not say. It's better for you not to know in case the EDC really do go looking for me."

_"I gotcha. So...will I be seeing you sometime soon?"_

"I hope so, Cav..." he smiled somewhat. "Could you do me a favour, please? You don't have to...it's just something I didn't take care of that I should have."

_"What is it?"_

"Back in Hell's Pantry...there was an elderly couple...the Gordens. Could you do me a favour and let them know that I'm all right, and hopefully, I'll try to help them in whatever I can."

_"Will do, Luke. Anything else?"_

"No, I think that'll do it. I don't want to stay on too long; I'll see ya 'round the bend, okay?"

_"Sounds like a plan. Talk you to later, Luke. And take care."_

"Same to you, Cav." He pressed the "end call" button and shook his head. Some weight off his shoulders, he pondered, grabbing a black, long-sleeve teeshirt and a pair of socks from the bureau.

"Now, I bet that Waspy could use some help," he exclaimed out loud as he finished dressing.

*

Minerva, in the orange and black transtector suit-her Roadrunner's secondary mode- watched the door carefully. She was, after all, one of the bouncers on this side of the bar; in this mobile suit, controlled within the breast of the robot, like all Sirian-built transtectors, as opposed to the head in Nebulon-built models, she was as large as any normal-sized Cybertronian.

Tapping the transtector's foot on the rail of the bar, she leaned against the steel countertop and sighed.

"Nothin' going on right now, it seems," Darxtar stated bluntly, wiping down the counter.

"I know," she growled. "Arty should be coming sometime soon. When, exactly, I'm not sure."

There was a sudden shout from the back, over the music. Quickly, Minerva stood, worming her way through the patrons to the tables in the back of the bar, normally reserved unofficially for the shadier characters of the establishment.

And they didn't get much shadier than good ol' Mighty Death.

The furthest table back from the door, situated in a corner near a trap door they probably didn't know about, two Rokkans-civvies, a rare sight here, for usually only military ever ventured this far from Rokkan territory-were glaring at the space in front of them, a darkened outline of a tall-something-with glowing purple optics.

"And what seems to be the problem here?" Minerva demanded casually.

"It seems," the disembodied voice of Ritterkruez retorted, ever so coolly, "that these...gentlefolk...have occupied my normal table."

"I see," the female nodded. "Make yourself visible, there, Ritter...you're scaring the normies. As for the two of you..." she crossed her arms over her chest, her transtector face smirking, "This is, after all, a reserved table."

=I see no name on it!= The taller Rokkan, a dark blue male with drooping wings and spiralling horns, snarled, the strange reverb of their voice ringing the air.

"Actually, there are...you are sitting in the Reserved area. And when the reserving party is present, this is their table. So, if you would be so kind as to move to one of the unoccupied tables..."

=We like this one,= the other, a light orange female with less prominent ridges and draped wings, pointed out forcibly.

"I'm sorry, but this table is reserved. And if you don't relinquish it, I may have to ask you to leave."

=You will do no such thing,= the male ordered.

"Now, I'm asking you to leave. If not, I will bring in our police to escort you out."

_"Trouble, Ryder?"_ Raff Ravenwing questioned over the internal comm of her suit. She set a standby order and returned her attention to the Rokkans.

=You do not understand...we are paying customers-=

"Paying customers? Yes, you are, but it makes me wonder why civilian Rokkans are doing this far from their homeworld." She leaned forward, tapping her finger against the table. "Now, that can only make me speculate if you are either hopelessly lost, looking to smuggle some weapons or a target for some thieving, waiting for a contraband drop, or perhaps even plotting a little assassination. Now, if it's the first one, then please, you are still welcome to go and find another table. If it's to smuggle, thieve, or assassinate, then I'm afraid you will be subjected by the rules and regulations of the Four Winds Bar, and incarcerated for five solar cycles until the Sirian authorities decide what to do with you. And, if it is trafficking, then the penalty is ten solar days. So, which is it? I will give you one chance to answer, and you can walk out of here as though nothing happened. If not, well, we'll see."

Both Rokkans glanced at one another, before they pulled out hypo guns and shot one another before Minerva could react. In twelve clicks, they had stopped breathing.

"Wonderful. You guys are too damn suicidal over a stupid...Hey, Raff, cleanup in the Seeker corner...damn Rokkan smugglers killed themselves."

_"Idiots. We'll take care of it. Raff out."_

"I don't understand," Ritterkruez blinked. "Why would they kill themselves over something so trivial?"

"That's the way Rokkans are. Silence is better than revealing their sources." Minerva shrugged, reaching over to the male and taking a purse full of universal cred-chips. "Smugglers looking to buy, no doubt. Guess they forgot to check our policy on that."

Two more transtectors, one painted gloss black with bright red and orange flames, the other sky blue with lightning bolts, made their way through the crowd to the back, where Minerva and Ritterkruez stood.

"Whoa." Raff's transtector shook its head. "How many creds were they carrying?"

"A good two hundred grand..." Minerva retorted as the other transtector picked up the bodies. "Better take them out back. Raff, contact Rokkan Command and inform them we had two more self-terminations due to smuggling. Let them know if this happens again, we will be retracting our services to any Rokkans."

"Will do, boss," Raff saluted, following his companion through the mirrored door.

Minerva looked down at the table with a sigh, then pulled the damp cloth hanging from her belt and wiped the table, then the seat down, and, with a final tada, she exclaimed to the large, black Decepticon, "Sir, your table."

Sliding into the seat, Ritter darkened to almost nothing more than a shadow.

"The usual, Minerva," he then ordered, once he got comfortable. "I overheard you talking to Darxtar. Is Artemis returning?"

"That she is. Looks like she has some big plans for Ol' Galvie. The Autobots have her on some other purpose, too. She'll need to talk to you about the Quints."

"I see," the black Cybertronian nodded somewhat.

"Also, on something of a more cosmic level," Minerva leaned forward, "we have a dilemma dealing somewhat with the Air Commander...and the fate of time and space of the multiverse itself. You might have some answers for us, if you don't mind. After hours, though."

"I will see what I can do, Minerva," Ritterkruez replied.

The orange and black transtector smiled, then returned to the bar-

\- just as trouble reared its head.

_"Minnie, it's Trin,"_ the Vengeance's pilot's voice rang over her comm. _"You expecting any other 'Cons tonight?"_

"No, why?" she demanded in a hushed tone.

_"Sweeps incoming. They just exited Warpgate Seven, along with Astrotrain."_

"Thanks for the warning, Trin. Let them through, but have fun with the Minions once Scourge is away."

_"Roger that. Trin out."_

"Looks like we've got company coming," she relayed to Darxtar, tossing him the credit purse. "Sweep company."

"Slottin'...that's the only kind of Cybertronian I refuse to serve!"

"Ritter's lager, old man."

Darxtar slammed a mug in front of her, filled it with the bluish glowing liquid, and continued his rant. "Primus-damned pieces of slag if ever I've seen them! Think they could replace the Seeker models? Feh. How many Seekers have you ever seen slagged?"

"Five," she answered truthfully.

"Well, Starscream had it coming to him, that's for certain. But still, those were good, durable models! These Sweeps are disposable!"

"From what I know, Scourge will have them in a holding pattern over Sirius II while he does the quote-unquote 'dirty work.' He's probably not even going to buy anything, just come here, look for Art, loiter for a few hours, then leave."

"And when Art does come while he's here?"

"Art can handle herself. Knowing her, she'll come through the back. That's where we come into play. Art's got escorts, Autobot ones. Scourge will attack the Autobots. We throw them in the pen for a solar cycle for disturbing the peace, leaving the We Hate Galvie The Lunatic Club to do what they want."

"Works for me." Darxtar shrugged as Minerva took the mug.

"Just refrain from shooting anything off unless it's your mouth," she winked, returning to Ritter's table. In a hushed tone, she revealed the situation to the Mighty Death as she handed him his drink.

"Minions," he nodded, studying the mug.

"Just to let you know."

"I see."

"You're of fewer words than usual, there, Rit. Something bugging you?"

"The usual. I checked out your source. Proximus Centuri did have a Quintesson base, but it was abandoned by the time I arrived, at least a stellar cycle."

"So, what could that mean?"

"It means they have another base somewhere else. I will have to search for it."

"Wonderful," she hung her head, defeated. "Makes you wonder if the Fates are against us or something."

"They have to be against someone, Minerva."

"I was being rhetoric."

"My apologies."

_"Minnie, we've got problems,"_ Drez's voice rang out into her comm. She looked up across the bar to the grey wolf. _"I just got contacted by Jes Wandering Star at EDC...he tried to keep them off our backs, but we're still getting an Earth-side investigation on the whereabouts of the boy."_

"Wonderful," she chuckled sardonically. "Simply-"

_"Trin again,"_ The Gatecrash pilot hailed. _"Autobot transport exiting from Warpgate Four."_

"What do I look like, the chief of security or something?" Minerva growled, saluting Ritterkruez before storming back to the front of the establishment.

_"You are,"_ both Drez and Trin reminded in unison.

"I was being rhetoric!" she repeated. "Okay, Trin, ETA of Decepticons and Autobots."

_"Autobots entering Sirian air space as we speak. I say probably a megacycle, most definitely less. The 'Cons came in on the far warp; they've got a good three megacycles at least before they enter air space."_

"And the EDC, Drez?"

_"Within the solar cycle."_

"Okay, people, we can do this. We've had to deal with worse."

_"I'll deal with the EDC,"_ Drez retorted.

_"Oh, by the Howl!"_ Trin swore. _"Nebulon diplomat ship just entered our proximity detectors. We don't need this!"_

"ETA, Trin!"

_"At least half a solar cycle."_

"Okay, first things first, we protect the kid. Drez-"

_"I'll let Shon know she's getting a visitor, no problem."_

"Trin, if that's a diplomat ship, have the standby Gatecrash escort them to the capitol, and have them keep a tight eye on them."

_"Will do!"_

"Leave the Cybertronians to me and Darxtar."

_"Stop volunteering me, meat!"_ Darxtar protested aloud.

"Raff!"

_"Yo!"_

"Have the active Gatecrash locked and loaded, surrounding the Four Winds. Have fun with the drone Sweeps."

_"Thank you!"_ The guild head whooped.

Minerva inhaled deeply, quickly going over her plan. "Brin!"

_"Yes?"_ The black lupine hissed.

"Northstar on alert. I don't want to have any killings tonight, but keep those trained baby blues for any unusual activity. Barak!"

She winced as feedback hit her comm. The large bull-headed Tauran, slightly shorter than Minerva in her transtector, brought his large head up from the table immediately to her right, rubbing his bovine ear.

"Dammit, Minnie, I'm right here," he slurred, a deep rumble. "Wha's goin' on?"

"Spiral on alert. Art's coming back, but she may have some company. Start something."

"Yeah, no prob..." Barak stared at her with a glazed look, then slammed his head back into the table, his large, prominent horns gouging the steel top.

Company was coming. And good or bad, the Four Winds was happy to accomodate.

*

This time, Luke waited until Waspinator noticed him before saying anything.

"What Lukiebot doing down here?" the wasp demanded, polishing some silverware in one pair of legs and wiping beer mugs down with the other two sets.

"Thought you could use some help."

The dutch door slammed open, and Drez, standing to his full two meter height, regarded both the Predacon and the human shortly.

"Hmph. Figured you'd be down here," he retorted gruffly. "Listen, kid, we've gotta relocate you for a bit...we've got some troubles looking for you, and we can't afford to risk losing you at the company's expense. My eldest wife Shon will take you to her temple. You'll be safe there until the Nebs and the EDC leave."

"I thought we got rid of them," Luke stated.

"Apparently, you thought wrong. Kid, you're in the middle of one of the most notorious guilds in the known galaxy. You are an investment, and a living being. The Nebs won't see that, and the EDC still want your bald arse on intergalactic treaty violations. We're your last chance, kid."

"Lukiebot comply with Drezbot..." Waspinator suggested meekly.

"Fine," Luke nodded. "I don't have much of a choice, now, do I?"

*

Minerva had watched Drez disappear into the kitchen as she drummed her fingers into the counter. The kid would be safe in a Temple of the Howl, at least temporarily. Sirian law forbade foreigners to venture within unless invited by a high-ranking diviner, such as Shon. But it would take some time for her to arrive here; her Temple was halfway across the city. The big threats weren't arriving for another half-solar cycle; good thing. Maybe the Fates were smiling on them for once.

The door flew open abruptly, slamming the far wall with a resounding clang, causing the majority of the sentients in the bar to snap their attentions to the newcomers.

In the filtering Sirian twilight, a starlight black Cybertronian stood, ice blue optics glaring at the patronage up front.

"Where can a girl get a decent drink?" she demanded forcefully, a smirk playing on her face.

"Not here!" some clown in the middle section chortled, and the normal chaos resumed as the black femme marched to the bar, her two companions trailing behind her.

"Artemis! Good to see you, old girl!" Darxtar exclaimed, already filling a mug. "We have a little altercation over at your usual table; couple of Rokkans tried to make themselves at home." The Decepticon glanced up at the two fliers accompanying her. "Well, Skyfire, good to see you again! Heard you were still kicking; slag, when word came back that you were KIA'ed...whew, never seen Screamer so somber in all my life!"

The towering Autobot blinked, surprised, as he rattled his neural processor to search for the bartender's name.

"I'm sorry, I seem to have-" He was cut short by a quick gesture from the Decepticon as Darxtar handed him a mug of ale as well.

"Don't matter now, kid. I remember you, though. Ol' Darxtar never forgets a face, or a preferred drink. And now, you," his attention switched from Skyfire to the smaller red and grey flier, blinked, then returned his gaze at Artemis. "Art, Art, Art, never coming in here without the company of a Seeker-"

It was sudden, really. Artemis instinctively stepped back as Stormrave lunged forward, kneeling on a bar stool with her hand clasped on Darxtar's torsoplate, her face contorted into a rather angry sneer.

"I," she snarled, "am not a Seeker, Decepticon. Do these-" she pointed with her free hand to her insignias on her wings, "-look like that?" Her finger snapped sharply to his own signal, more like a purple stain on his chest.

"Calm down, girl!" Darxtar held his hands up shortly, before driving one hand on her neck, pressing her head to the counter. "You're in neutral territory. I didn't call you a Decepticon, Autobot. It doesn't matter who's who here, just as long as you play by the rules. Rule number one...no fighting amongst the patrons, got it? Now, the only reason I'm not kicking your arse outta this place is that you're in the company of a very dear friend of mine." He released her, giving her a gentle shove back. "I know damn well you're Autobot." Regaining his jovial manner, he returned his gaze to Artemis. "I take it you never bothered informing-" he flipped his thumb towards the fuming Sky Patrol captain, "-about our policies, eh?"

"Didn't think she would react that way," Artemis shrugged, turning her head to gaze to the back of the crowded bar. "Which is probably why I didn't say anything sooner. Aha...there's the flyboy I wanted to speak to..."

She adopted a cool, confident stride towards the back; more relaxed, and overall provoking gait than the one she normally possessed. Skyfire made the move to follow before the bartender took hold of his arm.

"Ritter don't talk to just anyone, kid," he warned. "She won't cause any trouble, don't worry. Sit down and have a drink...first one's on the house. You too, flygal."

"My name is Stormrave," she growled, taking a seat at the bar, keeping an optic on the black femme.

Artemis strode past the passed-out Tauran at one of the smaller tables, clapping her hand on his shoulder momentarily before venturing to the seemingly empty back table. With a purposeful half turn, she fell back in the seat, kicked her leg up on the table, and leaned back, her arms stretched out on the top of the bench. With a deep sigh, she regarded the rest of the bar with a bit of a sad, reminensing smile, before turning her head to the shadow where there shouldn't be a shadow.

"Well, Stormy, welcome to the Four Winds!" Darxtar interrupted her train of thought. "I used to run an establishment back in Polyhex before I was run out of town...don't blame the 'Bots or nothin', just that, well, who ever heard of a neutral ‘Con, eh?" He guffawed, startling Skyfire somewhat.

"No one’s ever heard of a good fascist either," the orange and black robot on the other side of Skyfire pointed out, "Call me Dragon. I'm an old acquaintance of Art's."

Darxtar gave Minerva a wayward look. To use her old nickname meant these Autobots had met her before without her transtector, and Minnie managed to do something to piss them off.

"Who is she talking to?" Stormrave demanded curtly.

"Mighty Death," Minerva retorted. "Ritterkruez. He doesn't make friends too well. Hell, besides Arty, I don't think he really has any friends. A might antisocial, I would say."

"I've heard stories of him," Skyfire nodded somewhat, "that he is a ghost of some sorts, the living dead."

"No such thing," Stormrave exclaimed into her drink. "He's got a cloak of some sorts. That's why people think he's a ghost."

"A little of both, perhaps?" Minerva questioned, a bit mirthful. "As much as I know, he hates conflict with a vengeance. The only reason he wears the Decepticon logo is because he was Polyhexian. Same with Darxtar here, right, old man?"

"Get out of here, girl. Last I checked, you weren't paid to be a barfly."

Minerva stood, saluted the three, then ventured off to the table with the passed out Tauran.

"Hey, Barak," She sat, leaned forward, and tapped the area between his horns. "I know you're faking."

"Go away, I know Art's here," he slurred.

"That's not what I need you," she hissed. "Scourge will be here shortly. We need a diversion when they do. If those two 'Bots don't attack him, I want you to do something stupid."

"Let me guess," he replied into the table, "want me to trip over the big guy, spill my drink, and beat the shit out of him."

"Push him around a bit, if you must, but get a fight started between them and at least Scourge. Some of the other Combaticons, if you must. Knowing Swindle, he'll more likely head over to the gaming tables rather than hang out to throw punches; the others are a horse of a different color. Onslaught and Thundercracker need to be kept out of it."

"No problem..." He belched loudly, tapping his mug. "Want another."

"You're cut off until after our little altercation, got it?"

"Piss off, bitch."

"Will do," she nodded, taking his mug to the bar before heading out into the Sirian night air, giving Darxtar a nod as she left.

*

"So the Autobots are worried about the Quintessons," the shadow repeated with a slight nod.

"I think it's more of the virus. It seems that all the clues to its cure are pointing to the Quints."

"They won't help you."

"No slag," she chortled lightly. "That's why we have to pummel the slag out of one to get any answers."

"I'm still tracking them down," he willed himself slightly more visible; his features were now more defined, revealing a large, handsome robot with large triangular wings and a pitch black canopy topping off a sophisticated stealth design. "Minerva had found out of an outpost near Proxima Centauri. When I checked it out, it was abandoned for at least a stellar cycle."

"You were in the neighbourhood and didn't visit me? I'm hurt," Artemis brought her leg down and snuggled next to him, wrapping her arms around his left arm. He seemed unmoved by the gesture; only picked up his drink and took a sip, then set it back down as he stared straight forward.

"If my suspicions are correct, Artemis," he stated coolly, "I might be 'visiting' sooner than I had wanted to. If the Quintessons were on Proxima Centauri, then they could have moved on, into the Sol system by now."

Artemis blinked, staring up at him with a perplexed look to her face.

"Say what?" She whispered. "The Quints might be-"

"Already in the Sol system without the EDC knowing about them." Ritterkruez nodded, his expression remaining stoic. "Yes."

"Slot," Artemis bowed her head, resting it on his arm. "I don't believe it."

"Well, you did ask me to visit."

She snorted somewhat of a laugh.

"That was almost funny, Ritter," she exclaimed. "We're gonna have to work on your delivery soon-"

"It's time," the disembodied voice of Starscream sounded next to her auditory sensor, a tinge of jealousy striking underneath.

"Time for what?" Ritterkruez questioned innocently.

"Scourge is on planet. His Minions are in a holding pattern over-" Starscream halted, seeming surprised. "You can hear me?"

"Of course I can hear you. You speak loud enough."

Artemis chuckled again, then blinked.

"Ritter, as far as I knew, I was the only one who could see and hear him," she hissed.

"No matter!" Starscream ordered. "We have a plan to put into motion. Arty, you know what to do."

"Don't worry, flyboy; I've got everything covered," she affirmed. "You just run along and do what you have to do."

An air of hostility and jealousy hovered with the ghost for a good thirty clicks before Starscream disappeared from perception.

"How do you deal with him?" Ritterkruez questioned in all seriousness.

"One solar cycle at a time," she shrugged. "Only way to-uh oh."

The door had swung open again, a figure with large, crescent wings and somewhat of a stooped posture ventured forth, to the bar.

"Scourge," she whispered, seemingly fearful save for a playful little smirk flickering on her face. Without much warning, she took hold of Ritterkruez's torsoplate, pulled the until-then bored hunter towards her, and, taking hold of either side of his head, brought him closer to her, obstructing the line of sight between her and the Sweep commander.

"Artemis, what-"

She placed a finger on his lips.

"Shut up, flare your wings, and make it look like you're enjoying this."

And, with that as her final warning, she proceeded to kiss him hungrily.

*

The place was a meat market. Literally. For the most part, there were too many flesh creatures populating it, packed in, sweating disgustingly as they swayed to the tune of some new Earth song...or drowning themselves in alcohol. Disgusting, pathetic-

-hold it.

Scourge's optics narrowed in on the Cybertronians at the bar, three of them. The bartender, he knew, from a lifetime ago. The other two...

...Autobots...

_What were they doing here? This was no place for them!_

Of course, he did not have a true say in the decision; nonetheless, he was part of the solution. Glaring, he stormed up to the larger Autobot and shoved him roughly with a snarl. "Get out of here, Autobot," he ordered, "or I'll do the pleasure myself." With that, he brought his arm laser online.

Skyfire caught himself by the lip of the bar, locking optics with the Sweep commander, realising a nanoclick later who it was exactly. "Scourge! This is neutral territory!" he exclaimed as Stormrave flew to her feet, powering up her own lasers.

"Imagine that," Scourge chortled, leveling his arm to fire before the massive Autobot transport, defying his bulk, pushed the Decepticon back.

"Hey! Knock it off!" Darxtar ordered. "The kid's right; this is neutral territory! Take it outside!"

Rather than complying with the much larger Decepticon, Scourge shoved back, knocking Skyfire into a nearby table, knocking the plastered Tauran to the floor.

"Hey! Scourgie's having fun without us!" Brawl shouted from outside as he, Blastoff, and Vortex rushed into the seemingly one-sided melee. Swindle snuck around them, making his way to the poker game near the partition separating the two sides of the bar, the group seemingly obvious to the fight at hand. Onslaught and Thundercracker wisely did the same, venturing to the far end of the bar as the other three Combaticons and Scourge continued their attack on Skyfire.

Stormrave dove in, managing to peel Vortex off the top of the pile, when the chopper Decepticon was ripped from her grasp and tossed aside like a paper doll. The Tauran, sloshed five clicks ago, now lusting for blood, threw himself into the fray, concentrating on his attack more on Scourge than any of the others.

"Knock it off, now!" Darxtar commanded, somewhat halfheartedly. The room instantly erupted, more sentients jumping into the fight just for the sheer hell of it. Someone on the other side of the room had punched in a Sirian Hard House version of The Sweet’s "The Ballroom Blitz." "Okay, now we have fun."

With that as his only warning, Darxtar jumped the bar and landed solidly on Brawl's back, kicking with the leftover momentum into Blastoff's face. With a growl, he began prying the other creatures who joined in late off the pile just as the two black transtectors, one with orange trim, the other, red and orange flames, stormed in at the ready.

"Everybody freeze!" Raff Ravenwing bellowed.

Darxtar pushed himself off the top of the heap and brushed himself off.

"Who the hell started this ruckus?" Minerva demanded.

For the most part, the combatants, regardless the species, all pointed silently to either Skyfire and Scourge. Even the three Combations indicated in their mission commander, expressing poor attempts at innocence.

"Traitors!" Scourge bellowed, lunging at the nearest Combaticon, being Brawl. "You will all pay for this treachery!"

"I don't think so!" Minerva snatched at the Decepticon's shoulder. Scourge swung his arm around, pressing the laser to her transtector's temple and pulled the trigger, dry-firing the weapon. The female chuckled. "Oh, didn't you read the sign? We have a dampening field...no energy weapons can be discharged in here." She backhanded the Sweep commander in the face, then nodded towards Skyfire. "Raff, get the big guy. The rest of you, as you were. And don't let me see another fight in here again, or you'll end up joining these two."

"Excuse me?" Skyfire blinked, easing himself back to his feet with a wince. "I am not clear of what happened-"

"You and your buddy are going into lock-up for a solar cycle for starting this fight," Raff stated matter-of-factly.

"’Fight’?" Stormrave strided to the larger Autobot's side. "Excuse me, but Scourge here started it! Skyfire was only defending-"

"Ease off, Seeker, unless you wanna join him," Raff retorted gruffly. "You follow the rules, or you leave. Fair enough?"

"I am NOT a-" the jet's arm was caught by Minerva.

"Trust me, kid," she hissed, "that's a compliment around here. Only reason why we're not throwing your ass in there with these two...best you sit down and enjoy your complimentary drink while you can." She slammed her elbow into Scourge's neck as he struggled to shake her iron grasp.

"Stormrave, I will comply with their laws. You stay on the mission," Skyfire exclaimed softly. "We do not want to cause any more trouble than we already have, even if it means holding peace with Decepticons, if not only for the moment."

"Fine," Stormrave shrugged off Minerva's hand and ventured back to the bar. "I don't like it, though..."

"We don't take too kindly to people bringing in their own vendettas here," Darxtar explained, setting another drink in front of the red and grey jet as Skyfire and Scourge were led outside, Skyfire in total compliance, Scourge practically thrown over Minerva's shoulder, still struggling with her hold. "Commerce planets are the last place you want to start a fight on, even if you have the Decepticon Battle Fleet-what's left of it-behind you. Ain't that right, Onslaught?" he called to the Combaticon leader at the far end of the bar.

"And destroy the only place we can get decent beer in the quadrant?" Onslaught's voice dropped. "Even if you have to let slottin' Autobots and flesh creatures here..."

"It's where the money is. Anyway, you know damn well the Sirian Alliance Pact would vape anything that dared attack us," Darxtar clapped a hand over Stormrave's and shook his head at her angered expression. "Better stay cool, here, sweetspark...really. Commerce planets are nuetral; you can insult all you like, but the moment words turn to fists, things get ugly. And Minnie's right...you don't have to be a Decepticon to be a Seeker. Thundercracker, you maker’s boy, get over here and take these to the Mighty Death!" He slid two bottles of V-7 Energon Ale across the countertop to the blue and white Seeker, who seemed a little lost in thought. Returning his attention to Stormrave as Thundercracker bolted to attention, almost missing the delivery, he added, "See him? He may be Decepticon, but he's different...like your friend Art. He's got a dreamer’s spark. Sure, he's a follower...used to be pushed around by his big brothers all the time. Poor guy; that was one thing about his brothers...they at least protected him against Megatron's wrath. Now, I'm surprised he's survived this long under Galvatron."

"So why isn't he with the Autobots, then?" Stormrave questioned bluntly, sipping the potent drink.

"Hold on one sec...Barak! Do me a favour and take over with the drink delivery! I'm busy educating this gal!"

"Piss off, old man!" the Tauran shouted from his current duty, fixing up the tables up front that were overturned or destroyed in the fight. "I'm busy!"

"Anyway, as I was saying, he's the type who wants to make a difference...you know the difference between me and, say, Art, right? I was built military, she was build consumer goods. That's all. That's the only physical difference between Autobot and Decepticon, really. The rest is all depending on society. It's like any society anywhere. How's the drink?"

"Killer," Stormrave nodded, polishing off the mug. "What is it?"

"I like to call it a Nosedive...avgas and a bit of Terran tequila. Some other liquours in it too...what, you look like you've never heard of using Terran liquour before? Feh, kid, it's alcohol...good fuel in a pinch, but can't have too much, or you get, well...like Onslaught."

"Slot off and get me my drink, you Autobot lover!" Onslaught ordered curtly, his head bowed down and his finger drumming on the counter. "All these Autobots and no one to slag...I'm going nuts..."

"This'll calm your gyros down," Darxtar slid down another bottle. "Now shut up and let me talk to my new friend here."

"Whatcha doin'? Trying to recruit her?"

"You know damn well I wouldn't side with Megatron, let alone Galvatron, Combaticon...drink your drink and shut up." With a growl, he resumed his nearly-one-sided conversation with the Autobot, getting her another drink. "Anyway, it's all based on society. Society creates the so-called good guys/bad guys. That's why I'll have no part in the war. I may be Decepticon, but only by build. Same with Ritter over there," he flipped a thumb to the back corner.

*

Thundercracker went from his normal on-edge and slightly-paranoid to totally nervous as he approached the table he used to share back during the Great War with his brothers and Art. Ritterkruez occupied it, for the most part now, since Skywarp and Starscream were gone, and Art was with the Autobots...

Nervousness morphed into discomfort as he switched his balance. Apparently, Ritter had a new friend. Who was he to interrupt the Mighty Death's make out session?

Just as he set the bottles down on the table with a slight clink, a muffled and dead on familiar voice demanded, "Scourge gone yet?"

"I don't know, I've got my back to the door," Ritterkruez answered truthfully.

"I was asking Thundercracker." With a slight push as a signal, the space black Decepticon turned back in his seat, a strange expression on his face, one that would almost hint wistfulness. The femme swung her leg back onto the table and leaned back once more, a playful smile on her face. "Hey, TC...long time no see. Have a seat and let's catch up, shall we?"

"Um...was I interrupting anything?"

"No," Ritterkruez answered sharply, taking to his drink. "Artemis needed a diversion from Scourge."

"Couldn't risk the bar if he knew I was here," Artemis stated as Thundercracker settled into the seat next to her. "All going to plan...though Stormy's still here."

"Darxtar is pumping her full of Nosedives and stories," Thundercracker stated. "She's not going to be too much of a problem, I don't think."

"Good," with a nod, she took a glance around the bar, noting where each of the Combations were located. "Now, we can do this one of two ways; include the Combaticons directly, or give them second-hand information. Our main concerns are Galvatron finding out; in the case that he does, you guys at least have this place to call asylum."

"I don't have anything to lose on this venture," Thundercracker picked up one of the bottles and took a pull from it. "I told Onslaught that if he went to Galvatron, the nutcase might start destroying all of Starscream's connections, including the Combaticons."

"A threat that would work for most of them," her optics landed on the gaming table, where Swindle, it seems, was cleaning house at some card game. "Swindle might be one to tell if he could get something from it. I don't know if he's smart enough to realise that Galvie won't hold true to any bargain."

"Then might I suggest only involving Onslaught, seeing that he seems to have the most sense of the situation," Ritterkruez pointed out.

"Well, either way, you might want to pass this on, Thundercracker," Artemis's optics lowered, lacing her fingers behind her head. "The Autobots believe Starscream is still alive."

"But he isn't!" Thundercracker protested. "We all know that! We saw his remains!"

"I know that. The fact of the matter is that Apollo overheard Rumble and Frenzy talking about him as if he was still alive-my fault, really-and Apollo relayed that information to myself and Elita-One. I attempted to convince her otherwise, until I realised that if I continued with it, it would seem that I was hiding him and therefore risking my position in the Autobot ranks."

"What are the Autobots doing about this?"

"Elita spoke of allowing 'leaks' out of Autobot territories...like Starscream still alive, which she believes that might bring the old style Decepticons rallied enough to overthrow Galvatron and his Minions...slag like that."

"A little political warfare, I see," Ritterkruez nodded. "A different method of attack."

"And probably the best way to handle it," Thundercracker nodded.

"Civilizations have risen and fallen with propaganda. This is no exception." Artemis stared into her drink in thought.

"The other problem would be leadership," Thundercracker retorted. "Onslaught wants to be leader if this goes through and we're successful. Most of us know Soundwave would have second's rights."

"And Soundwave’s currently compromised. If this does go through as planned, then leadership is up in the air. But those who want to lead have been poisoned by Megatron's own propaganda during the revolt that led to the Great War. They'll follow in his footsteps."

"The only one who hasn't..." Thundercracker suddenly struck an dreaded epiphany. "No way are you suggesting..."

"As much as I love you like a brother, TC, you're too nice to lead cutthroats," Artemis shrugged. "If Starscream was still alive, it would be a different matter...."

"What makes you think he would be different than Megatron?" Ritterkruez questioned.

"He wasn’t as focused on defeating the Autobots," Thundercracker stated. "His plans made some sense...and though he didn't seem like he cared much for his troops, he saw the advantage of keeping them alive."


	9. Blitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A second bar brawl breaks out, this time with more spectators, and Swindle's taking bets! Starscream had enough of this, and searches for answers elsewhere...specifically with the dead god Unicron.

Waspinator peeked out to the other side of the bar. Prettykittybot and Horsiebot-before they were Prettykittybot and Horsiebot-were talking; about what, it was difficult to overhear over the din of the establishment.

"Hey, Buggy, whatcha doin'?" Brin flicked a finger at his antennae.

"Waspinator curious," the Predacon stated matter-of-factly. "Lukiebot gone to temple, and Waspinator finished with current dishes...Waspinator wants to know what Prettykittybot and Horsiebot talking about."

"Ohhh...kay..." the black lupine only shook her head. "Whatever, Buggy...you know, sometimes I wonder about you-"

She abruptly noticed the sudden dread in the wasp's multifaceted optics, focusing over her shoulder. She glanced back, then faced Waspinator once more. "Buggy? What's wrong? What is it?"

"Nnnn..." Waspinator's mandibles twitched nervously as he backed up into the kitchen, the dutch doors swinging softly.

Worried, Brin activated her comm. "Ryder, it's Brin," she hailed. "Buggy's acting all weird and stuff. I think he saw something on the other side of the bar that he didn't like."

_ "I'll check it out ASAP. Thanks, Brin. Ryder out." _

Her odd eyes frosted over in puzzlement, she noticed her husband returning from taking the kid to Shon's temple. Racing over to Drez, she took his arm with a forcible squeeze

"Something's wrong with Waspinator," she hissed in his ear. "He was looking towards the direction of the Cybertronians, that's all I could get out of it."

"I'll check in on it. Watch the bar." Clapping a hand over hers, the peppered grey Sirian wormed his way through the crowded bar to the kitchen door marked "Employees Only" in twelve different languages.

"Bugboy, what's wrong?" Drez demanded as he entered, only finding Waspinator curled up under the prep table. "Waspinator, what the hell is it?"

"Ghostbot," Waspinator whimpered, antennae shaking. "Ghostbot coming for Waspinator...and no one can stop him..."

"Wonderful. You know, if I didn't know the situation, I would have scrapped you ten years ago."

Waspinator said nothing, only shivered moreso.

"Dammit!" Drez growled, glaring over his shoulder. "I can't do much for you, bug...you're just gonna have to stick through it while I take care of the floor. We have other matters at hand that can't wait."

"That what Waspinator afraid of," the Predacon whimpered as Drez stormed out of the kitchen.

He could feel the ghost...edging closer and closer...a potent presence, vehement, stalking...imposing...

"Leave Waspinator alone!" he cowered. "Waspinator terrorizzzzze!"

Transforming back into bot mode, the wasp quickly covered ground to the stairwell to the upper level, attempting to outrun the spectral menace.

"Waspinator, eh?" the shrill, ethereal voice called out. "Is that your designation?"

The voice was mocking, yes, but it also held a hint of unexpected surprise. Waspinator's wings twitched madly as he turned, frightened, to face the disembodied voice behind him.

"Ghostbot...not know Waspinator?" he questioned, antennae drooping.

"What are you?" A slight piff of air, and the lit form of a Transformer spark hovered closer to the Predacon. "A Cybertronian, indeed...but one this size? Only deployers are this small...so, Waspinator, do tell more about who you are, and where you come, and, most importantly..." The orb dipped, circling the trembling wasp, then returned about face, ten centimeters from Waspinator's mandibles. "How can you see me?"

"Waspinator...know not?"

"Feh. Your tone says otherwise. Answer me, or I shall be forced to work by other means to get the answers I desire!"

"Waspinator know not!" he repeated, more forcibly, as he grovelled before the spectre. "Waspinator was in wrong place at wrong time! Waspinator not know why universe slag on Waspinator!"

"Pathetic." With a sudden rush, the spark bolted forward, through Waspinator's chest panel. A cold chill rushed through the Predacon's core processor as Starscream exited between his wings, an overwhelmed feeling of hopelessness and despair...

...Fear...

...Panic, then...

...Nothing, as he slouched forward, slamming his head into the linoleum, his optics dulling off line.

"Indeed, pathetic," Starscream scoffed, just as the shell lurked back to life, pushing himself back to his hands and knees, then finally to his feet. The wings, before splayed to either side, now rested downward, as though a mantle of some sorts, the stance now more confident, less - much less - cowardly than it was before. Pausing for a good five clicks, Waspinator finally turned to face the spectre-

-a smirk playing across his mandibles, hauntingly familiar, as his optics now blazed red rather than the iridescent violet as before.

"Well," Starscream's own voice escaped from Waspinator's voice box, "it took you long enough to find this pathetic creature."

"What in the name of Primus and Unicron-"

"Oh, shut up. Religion never suited you-us." With a chortle, Waspinator-who-was-not Waspinator stepped forward, towards the shocked spark. "As I remember, in fact...amazing how temporal physics work...over three hundred stellar cycles ago, I was you."

"Who are you to-"

"-who am I? Isn't it obvious, Starscream? No, I suppose not. For this shell, twenty-three stellar cycles ago, it had a, how shall we say, nasty run-in with the spark of the deceased Air Commander-that's you, in three hundred stellar cycles. Commandeering Waspinator was not a difficult task; the spark was weak-willed, and bent to a mere 'boo.' "

Had he still possessed a shell, Starscream would have blinked, confused.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about," Waspinator chuckled. "Not surprising. Three hundred stellar cycles from now, the Autobots and Decepticons are replaced by new Cybertronians called Maximals and Predacons. Three hundred stellar cycles from now, transwarp technology will be perfected. Three hundred stellar cycles from now, one who, with illusions of grandeur and called himself Megatron, will steel two golden disks and a transwarp drive, taking them to Earth of the past-two million stellar cycles in the past-to find enough energon to launch a full-scale war upon return. Or so was his external intentions. He was thwarted somewhat by the Autobot descendants, crashing upon Earth much like we did prior. Only they survived to begin the fight anew."

"So Waspinator is from the future."

"Correct. I-rather, you will, when the time comes-followed our double agent to the dirtball-she claims she was hunting the Maximals' mistake, but I knew the Tripredacus Council had hired her to apprehend Megatron when their first agent failed."

"Explain further," the ghost, had he been mortal, would have took a skeptical stance, his arms crossed over his chest.

"As it was explained to me, so will it be explained to you. The Maximals will find out about your mutant spark, and try to replicate it in the form of a Maximal Enforcer named Honourstar. It seemed that the pathetic creature couldn't handle the duplicated power, and went on a killing spree. Serves them right." The wasp scoffed, mirroring the stance the ghost would have struck. "They took his name away, calling him by his designation, Protoform X. That's all you need to know about that. As for the Tripredacus Council, their methods are of guile and subterfuge, not Megatron's sense of brute strength. Megatron was willing to wage a full scale war. The Tripredacus Council wanted to break the Maximals up, much like what you're trying to do with Galvatron. Our agent was not aware of this, she was willing to stop Megatron. But alas, I lost contact with her after she crashed during an energon storm. However, the wasp found her later on and during the later part of the Beast Wars, I managed to receive information that Megatron or the Maximals didn't want to fall into the wrong hands."

"Us."

Waspinator-who-was-not-Waspinator threw his head back and laughed.

"You could say that. But my main mission is far from that. I am, regardless, three hundred stellar cycles your elder; I have collected information and acquired wisdom that you will find very useful. First things first," The wasp held up a fist, ticking off his fingers as he spoke, "Galvatron will fall, but the Autobots and Decepticons are forced together against the Quintessons. Allow this to happen. You have more power than you realise during this. Two, a Decepticon revolt will assure afterwards. Artemis will be mortally wounded. Allow this to happen as well. At this point, she will be more useful dead than alive, for then the Decepticons who are loyal to you will form the Tripredacus Council and sign a Pax Cybertronia with the Maximals. There's more politics involved, but overall, that's all you need to know. Which brings up the third and final point. The Maximals will salvage Arty's spark and put her in a Maximal shell. This is extremely useful, seeing that after that, they will put her on their council, using her as a liaison with the Tripredacus Council. And..." Waspinator chortled again, "giving us the leverage we need. The overall plan requires patience, Starscream. You must learn to flex that."

"Feh. Patience is a virtue I've never needed to rely on."

"Perhaps in the past, but might I add that your lack of patience is the reason why you are corporeally challenged."

"Infidel!" Starscream snarled, flaring visible. "For a remark like that-"

"Not now. You cannot do anything yet. You lack the knowledge. For now, return to Unicron's head. You will find the questions which you seek answered there, not from this feeble shell."

"And what," Starscream's voice grew gritted, "would those questions be?"

"That's simple," Waspinator gave a soft "heh." "What your purpose in the grander scheme of things is."

"I make my own destiny!"

"True...but is it your destiny to become leader of the Decepticons?"

"Of course!"

"Perhaps that is the greater scheme of things, then." With that cryptic answer, Waspinator crumbled to the ground abruptly.

"Explain yourself, dammit!" The spectre glared down at the fallen form. "I command you to explain!"

"Nnnnnn..." The wasp shook his head with a wince, his voice returning to normal. "Waspinator...no longer afraid of Ghostbot. Waspinator understand."

"Explain!"

"Program truly deleted. Program finished mission. Waspinator free of program at last." The Predacon stared up at where the spectre's optics would be. "Waspinator not understand why, but Waspinator know what grander scheme is for universe."

"Which is...?"

The wasp's antennae fell, draped over his optics.

"Entropy," he whispered softly.

*

With a forceful throw, Minerva tossed the smaller robot into an energy field three levels below the bar. Activating the security bars, she glanced over to Raff, who was having an easier time dealing with the behemoth Autobot.

"Well, that's done with," she dusted off her hands. "Looks like it's time to go back up and look for other rabble."

"Galvatorn will hear of this travesty!" Scourge shouted.

"And what is he gonna do about it?" Minerva demanded, hands on her hips. "I know damn well your forces aren't what they used to be...if you were half the sky commander Starscream was-"

"What do you know of Starscream?" Skyfire questioned abruptly.

"Be quiet, Autobot scum!" Scourge ordered from his poistion across from the red and while Autobot.

"You be quiet, creep," the male ordered. "Come on, Ryder-"

"You knew of Starscream differently, didn't you, big guy?" the orange and black transtector marched across the way, leaning up against the wall, looking at the sitting Autobot.

"He had been my friend in the past," Skyfire's optics became downcast. "He chose the path of war, forsaking our friendship..."

"For one who chose the path of peace, you seem disheartened."

"He had changed since I last knew him."

"Any friend of that traitor, past or present, shall be vanquished!" Scourge shouted.

"Shut the hell up before my finger gets itchy," Raff ordered, patting his rifle at his hip.

"You would not dare-"

Raff brought the weapon up, pointing it directly at Scourge, his transtector's optics narrowed.

"Wanna try me?" he questioned bluntly. "We ain't Autobots here, remember. We ain't afraid of a little killing."

"Easy, Raff, don't make the dude crap out his fuel pump," Minerva chortled, returning her attention to Skyfire. "Y'know, war does change a person...and if you lived under the fear that Megatron would slag you if you stepped out of line, then that could change a person too." She tapped the field, sending sparks of energy surging through the grid. "You know, Skyfire, he did speak of you, right up to his death. And if he really did want you out of the way, he would have slagged you there and then, rather than let you side with the Autobots. Come on, Raff, we have work to do."

"Wait..." Skyfire stood, venturing back to the grid. "Please, tell me more..."

"Can't...we're on the clock," Minerva saluted.

"Traitor," Scourge snarled, defeated. "Nothing worse than a traitor..."

Skyfire sank back into his seat, his thoughts elsewhere.

*

"Man, what is it with the big guy?" Raff questioned as he and Minerva returned topside, up into the Sirian night.

"Long story," Minerva stated, the chest of her transtector lifting upward, revealing her cockpit with her strapped inside a control harness. Raff did the same, pulling out a cigarette from behind his ear. "So, Gatecrash have fun with the Sweeps?"

"Shit yeah," the broad-shouldered human nodded, lighting the cig. "Hell, even Astrotrain joined in the fun."

"All scrapped?"

Raff nodded again. "Trin wrote up a beautiful report how they must have mistook Gatecrashed as some Autobots and attacked."

"Beautiful," Minerva nodded, breathing in the night air as she stared up at the stars. "And the kid's at the Temple, from what I understand. Good." With a sigh, she settled back into her cockpit. "Hell of a night, eh, Raff?"

"You can say that again," he coughed a laugh. "Good to have a little excitement."

Minerva rubbed her neck, glancing back out to the skyline. Noticing a number of robots heading towards her position, she blinked, pulling down her viewscope.

"What is it, Minnie?"

"Those aren't Autobot, Decepticon, or Sirian, Raff." Her mouth contorted into a grimace. "Shit. Nebulon transtectors. Too rounded to be ours."

"Suit back up. Gatecrash, this is your captain speaking. Standby Gatecrash, report!"

_ "Sir, I'm sorry," _ A young male apologized over their comms as the two transtectors' chests slid back into place.  _ "We were told by the Sirian regs to let them through." _

"Shit," Raff stepped forward, tapping a sequence out on his rifle, unlocking the safety.

"Don't let them in with their transtectors," Minerva ordered. "Tell them new policy. I'll get the silicon folks prepped in the case things get violent."

"Again?" Raff chuckled as the female rushed into the bar, towards where Darxtar was still talking to a now-inebriated Stormrave.

"Old man, we got Nebs coming in," she stated bluntly.

"Slottin'..." Darxtar shook his head angrily. "Think we can handle them?"

"We got Mighty Death, slag-ton of mercs, a drunken Bruticus, and a whole slew of half-drunk bastards aching for some breaking...if things get rowdy, things are going to go our way. Drez, our Neb friends are approaching."

_ "Thanks for the warning. This is the last time we extend charity, mind you." _

"Sounds like a plan, old wolf. Ryder out." She flipped a thumb towards the back. "I'm gonna spread word of mouth..."

"You do that...Hey, Stormer, mind staying somewhat sober for the next half-megacycle? We've got some bad guy company."

"Wha...what's going on?" Stormrave demanded, her speech beginning to take on a bit of a slurred reaction.

"Just if these dudes cause trouble, when I give the signal, you get up and trip over them."

Stormrave stared at the bartender. "You're serious."

"It worked before, didn't it?" For emphasis, he pointed to Barak, who was, once again, passed out two seats down from her.

Minerva, on the other hand, tapped Onslaught's shoulder, startling the Decepticon drowning himself in his beer.

"Dude, wanna cause some damage? We got nasties incoming; we may need some damage of the Bruticus magnitude," she hissed, before heading towards the far wall.

"Yeah, whatever," Onslaught blinked, resuming his brooding.

"Suit yourself," Minerva retorted cheerfully, adding under her breath, "even if you did, I bet Bruticus would be suffering a hangover...Art! Optics groundside!"

The black femme and her two male companions snapped their heads up to regard the transtector. "What's up?" Artemis questioned.

"Nebs."

"They followed you, didn't they?" the black femme questioned bluntly.

"I don't know. They're from a diplomat ship. Just saying that when Darxtar gives the signal, we're gonna need some back up, if you catch my drift."

"With the dampener, Ryder," Thundercracker interjected, "is my sonic attack still operational?"

"Drez will kill me if I told you, but your Boom-Bubble-Pop there operates on a lower wave frequency than laser or plasma...it's just that you were a good boy and played by the rules."

"Just use it as a last resort," Artemis ordered curtly. "We're in enclosed walls...we'll get the blunt of it with the Nebs."

"I'm well aware of that, Art," Thundercracker nodded as Ritterkruez silently shifted back into the shadows.

"Arty, last resort for you, too. We still got that ban on conventionals in here, but, if need be, use a concussion."

"Locked and loaded," the black femme nodded, bringing her hand to rest on the butt of her rifle holstered to her leg.

_ "Yo, Ryder, they ain't complying!"  _ Raff hissed.

"Didn't think they would. Let them in, I'll talk to them." With a slight nod to the three in the back, she pivoted on her heel and stormed back to the bar, where three new mechanoids-- transtectors, no doubt, as schematics of the gear flashed in the cockpit's viewscreen-- stood, one green, one dark blue, one red-brown, all with gold trim. Much more rounded than the Sirian-build transtectors, which were sleek but sharp-edged, these Nebulon robots stood almost a full head taller than their Sirian counterparts, and carried a more menacing air around them.

"Shit, those things are ugly," Minerva hissed under her breath. Aloud, she greeted the three brightly. "Greetings! How may I serve you?"

The middle Nebulon took two steps towards the orange and black transtector, meeting it optic for optic.

"We wish to speak to the proprietor of this establishment." His voice was sharp, angry, vehement.

Without losing the bubbly barmaid disposition, she answered without missing a beat, "He's indisposed as the moment, but I am his second. Perhaps we can discuss this?"

"Three of our cruisers on a legalized apprehension run had been destroyed by a Sirian-class Interceptor. Sirian Regulators informed us the only Interceptor in the vicinity of our cruisers was in fact the  _ Shrike's Cry _ , your ship."

“We were on a run to Beta Cybertronia when our hyperjump cut out. We had to return. You're welcome to check the logs if you must--"

"She's lying," the blue Nebulon, a female voice, soft with an Earthian accent far too familiar to the draconian.

Minerva's hackles raised, her ice cold gaze locking onto the speaker. "Excuse me? Do I know you?" she demanded.

"You're marginally human, enough for me to read you," the blue Nebulon retorted. "I can read humans, even within a ton of metal."

"Identify yourselves, then we'll all get out of these transtectors and talk over this over mulled ale in more private accomodations. I'll get Drez and our legal team--"

"I am Gavin Zarak," the green transtector rumbled, the anger still apparent. "And all we want is the child. We will leave as soon as the child is in our custody."

"’Child’?" Minerva slammed up her mental defenses, rusty with disuse; she had not had to deal with fae or telepaths in...well, a very long time. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"His name is Luke MacArin, draconian," the female snarled. "I want him back."

Minerva cocked her head to one side, then struck the epiphany.

"I see...you're Arin nicLennox. Well, pardon me for not prostrating before a consort of the Sidhe Court."

"Your sarcasm is amusing. The Nebulons lack humour," Arin chortled.

"You must miss the black humour of the Baen Sidhe then," Minerva rifled back.

"Ryder, what the slot is going on?" Draxtar demanded.

"A little bit of a tribal feud, so to speak, Decepticon," Arin growled, her transtector's optics still locked on Minerva's. "None of your concern. I only came for my son, but if this slave wants to battle..."

Minerva, out of the corner of the transtector's optics, noticed Artemis and Thundercracker moving to another table closer to the verbal melee; Onslaught, Brawl, Blastoff and Vortex converging to the barrier, whereas Swindle remained at the card table; Stormrave and Barak, seemingly unaware of each other's presence, still at the bar.

"Slave? Are you trying to insult me? Heh. Doesn't work. Get out of here before we're forced to kick you out."

Her transtector suddenly froze up, unable to move. This, she anticipated as she manually released her cockpit harness, taking hold of her sword. Her human guise fell as she kicked out the emergency hatch of the robot, slipping out the back. There were only two Nebulons, then. Good. She could handle the Baen Sidhe bitch herself.

As Gavin Zarak's concentration was on the now empty transtector, Stormrave took that moment to amuse her new friend, as she stood, a little shakenly, with a Nosedive in her hand. Swiftly, she turned, slamming into the terracotta Nebulon with a force that might have been considered a little much to be accidental.

"Look what you did, you idiot!" she shouted, the shattered glass dropping from her grasp as the concoction dripped from both of them. "I swear, I would level you right here and then if-"

Her voice trailed off as her optics widened, her motor control stiffened. The terracotta transtector narrowed its own optics.

"Why don't you go off, drink yourself into a stupor, and pretend none of this happened?" he hissed.

"Why don't you do what the boss says and leave?" Artemis shouted, one click at the table, the next, using momentuum of her leap to execute a spinning kick to the midsection of the brown Nebulon. Stormrave shook her head, blinking once at the black femme, before joining in, tackling Davin Zarak.

"Go for the heads!" Darxtar ordered sharply, filling up another mug of beer for a seemingly bored customer who took the seat next to Barak. "The bastards are in the heads!"

Arin turned to aid her comrades, only to have her transtector's leg struck by a large claymore. The dragonian growled, swinging again, this time at the knee joint. Arin toppled, crashing into a table up until so recently repaired by the mercenary guildmaster.

"Then, if it's hand-to-hand you wish, draconian, then it shall be granted!" There was a hiss as the transtector's head lifted, the face folding away as a lithe woman in matching green and gold armour flipped onto the chest of the fallen transtector, her sword, a long, thin rapier made of a bright silver material, stood at the ready, her cold green eyes challenging.

"Hey, works for me." The draconian woman lunged, running up the transtector's leg to meet the other part-Sidhe with a clang of steel versus steel, the heavy, sturdy blade of the claymore rang loud and hard, the slim and elegant elven blade, crisp and clear. As they fought and parried, Minerva pressed forward, forcing her opponent off the table and onto the floor, herding her towards the other side of the bar. Obviously, this one knew her sword, and used it well. A one handed blade, light and quick, it gave Minerva a bit of a workout to parry with her heavy two-hander.

Artemis, taking advantage of the distraction the fallen transtector had caused, executed an vertical axe kick to her opponent's chin, sending him reeling back as she set up a roundhouse kick to his chest, flooring him solidly with a resounding crash. She was only vaguely aware that both her and Stormrave's attacks and Minerva's sword fight were attracting an audience, many of them who knew her cheering her on. Aiming to please, she delivered a vicious knee to the transtector's neck, sending shorts throughout his system.

Stormrave was having as much fun with Davin Zarak, though her methods were more of a streetfighter, less showy and fluid, but effective, nonetheless, as she relentlessly boxed at the other transtector's face, taking a few blows as well, recieving an assist from the black femme as Artemis swung another roundhouse over Stormrave and into Davin Zarak's head.

"Okay, girls, it's my turn!" Drez ordered, marching towards them in a bulkier, more antique mobile suit moving with a fluid if not feral grace. "Let's see you try your mind tricks on this baby...no electronics whatsoever. You want the boy? Tough shit. Under the Sirian Codex of Privateering and Proprietership, section 74-Gamma, subparagraph 4, you're under arrest for disturbing the peace in my bar. Please dismount your transtectors and surrender immediately."

"We are not bound by your law, Sirian," Davin Zarak snapped, still recovering from Artemis's kick. "Do not force us to destroy this establishment."

"There are only three of you here, and one is busy in a sword fight entertaining my customers. Your 'diplomat' ship is being guarded by standby Gatecrashand Sirian Global Police. This is a commerce planet, Davin Zarak...not a good place to pick a fight."

"What's going on?" Stormrave questioned to Artemis.

"Commerce planets like Sirius II are neutral, and even if they seem a bit anarchic, they are regulated by more bureaucratic measures," Artemis hissed back. "Rather than governed by one government, each establishment has their own codes and guidelines that are outlined in the Sirian Codex, which is like their constitution. Basically, Four Winds is its own country, so to speak, and Drez is its monarch."

"Why are you so attached to a nameless street rat?" Davin Zarak demanded to the blue and silver mobile suit.

"Same reason you are. Only difference is we'll pay him." Drez, with a grunt, swiftly pulled the sword at his side, a large, ten-foot blade with a heavy hilt. "Dismount from your transtectors now. Even you're afraid to do anything against us, due to your need of a commerce planet for your supplies, seeing that no one else would barter with you."

Disgruntled, Davin Zarak did as he was told, reaching up to pull off his head, itself transforming into a tall, green-hued biped clad in green and gold armour. His companion did the same, standing next to his leader.

"Now, that's better. Barak," he poked the drunk Tauran lightly with the mobile suit's finger, "take them to the lower detention until we can figure out what to do with them." With a chuckle at Barak's usual "piss off," he noticed the sword fight still in action. "We'll let Ryder play with her new friend some more. Raff," he beckoned the flame-decaled transtector behind him, "clear out these mechs and put Minnie's in the garage."

"Gotcha, boss," Raff nodded, already dragging the terracotta transtector. Barak picked both Nebulons by the scruffs of their necks and followed Raff, swinging his arms as he did, more to disorientate and nauseate the prisoners than anything.

Drez took a deep breath, then regarded the two Autobot femmes.

"Welcome home, Art," he chuckled.

"You know," she shook her head, "it was so much fun back in the old days when we didn't have the bar fights planned out a half-megacycle in advance."

There was a shout from Swindle as everyone's attention resumed to the other fight at hand. Already, the yellow and purple Combaticon had his hands full of currency, taking bets for the fight.

"He better remember the twenty percent cut," Drez growled, sheathing the sword.

"I'm sure you'll remind him, old wolf," Artemis retorted.

The combatants seemed equally matched despite the variations in weapons and style. Minerva's brutal warrior strikes and swings clanged out against Arin's delicate, artistic parries and thrusts. However, Minerva knew damn well she had the advantage of reach, where Arin's was speed and agility; regardless, the Nebulon mech armour hindered her Sidhe grace. The elven rapier was merely a weapon in the halfling's hand; Minerva's claymore was in fact an extension of her arm, a part of her.

Arin lunged forward as Minerva feinted an opening; with her own brutal grace, the draconian rolled off the other woman's shoulder and slapped her back with the flat of her claymore. Flaring her wings, Minerva swung her arm out, connecting the pommel to the base of Arin's neck. The Baen Sidhe rolled forward with a wince, shaking her head.

"Ain't you tough with all that armour," Minerva taunted, dipping her sword's tip to wait for Arin to recover. "What did you sacrifice for it? Perhaps your soul?"

With an angry shriek, the other woman swiped her sword again, Minerva stepping back easily as the tip just missed her neck by millimeters.

"My, you didn't like that, now, did you?" the draconian woman brought her sword, still blade down, to block another swipe. "I would think the Sidhe and the Nebulons would be natural enemies-"

"That is nothing of your concern!" Arin snarled, attempting another thrust.

"You're getting sloppy, unbefitting for a consort of the court-"

"ENOUGH!" Arin shouted, backing up from the melee. "I grow tired of your insults, your taunts." There was a quick movement, her left hand drawing a horizontal line in the air, then a diagonal, from right to left upwards.

Minerva took that time to swing at the rune Arin was drawing, generating a blinding explosion of light and sound that sent both the combatants and some of the spectators flying backwards.

"Slottin'-" Stormrave shielded her optics, ducking downward. "What the slot was that?"

"I don't know! Drez!" Artemis directed the Sirian's attention.

"Your guess is as good as mine, sweetheart," Drez growled, jumping the barricade towards the other side of the bar, as Brin raced to Minerva's side, Drez heading towards the opponent. "Brin, sit-rep!"

"She's still alive!" the black lupine retorted as Minerva used her friend's shoulder for leverage to stand. Taking a couple of clicks to clear her head, the draconian stormed towards Arin and picked her up by her chest plate, the edge of her sword pressed against her neck.

"Explain," the draconian hissed angrily, "how you were able to cast an earth rune off planet."

Arin, her green eyes dazed, focused in on Minerva's humanoid face once before fainting.

With a sharp curse, the female, claymore still in her hand, frisked her armoured opponent with the free one, coming to a small pouch tied around her neck. Removing it, Minerva finally stood, studying the leather.

"Drez, I'm taking my break now," she exclaimed wearily, resting her sword on her shoulder.

"Go ahead, girl," Drez nodded as she exited to the garage. "Brin, mind taking sleeping beauty to detention to join her buddies?"

"Of course, babe," Brin nodded, picking up the smaller biped and tossing her over her shoulder. "Oof...the bitch weighs a ton..."

"Okay, everyone, show's over! As you were!" He then shouted over the excited din. "Swindle, you owe me twenty percent!"

"What makes you think I was taking bets?" Swindle demanded curtly.

"Swindle, I'm really not in the mood right now. Either pay Darxtar when you leave or we tack another thousand credits to your tab."

"Better pay him, Swindle," Brawl hissed. "That's a combined tab we've got going."

"Well, that wasn't as bad as I thought it to be," Thundercracker hissed into Artemis's auditory sensor.

"I don't know, TC," she rebutted, her tone low as they ventured to the bar this time. "Something tells me that this was some sort of distraction, some sort of ruse."

"What do you mean?" Stormrave demanded, giving the Decepticon Seeker an untrusting stare.

"Thundercracker, Stormrave. Stormrave, Thundercracker. Please get along," Artemis interjected as they sat, her in the middle of the two. "I mean, sure, there were only three of them, but the way Minerva was talking about them, I would have thought that they would be more of a challenge. Like they didn't even try to fight back."

"Or they were leary of starting a fight on a commerce planet," Darxtar passed out drinks to the three of them. "Stormer, my girl, you did well out there. Made me proud."

"So how come I wasn't thrown into lock up like you did Skyfire?"

"Politics," he chortled. "And for his own safety. The pacifists really have no place here." Darxtar shot a glance to the back table. "Looks like Ritter picked up shop."

"He's doing a little research for me," Artemis stated.

"You know, I think he's sweet on you, Art," Thundercracker pointed out.

"Tall, dark, handsome, a flier to boot...a little too aloof for my tastes, however," she chuckled, taking a sip of her beer.

"Do I want to know?" Stormrave questioned.

"Nope."

*

Minerva stormed into the garage, where Raff, his transtector in a bay on the far wall, was resetting the electronics of her transtector. Sword sheathed, she resumed her human appearance.

"Hell of a night, eh, Ryder?" Raff smirked.

"Let's not start that. How's the system?"

"Minor crash, that's all they did." Raff jumped down from his perch and crossed his arms over his chest. "All they can do when they're in their own suits. The Nebs use most of their electronic-controlling abilities to operate their own transtectors...that's why Art was able to attack with both Nebs occupied. How'd your little show go?"

"Know what this is?" the blonde held out the pouch towards Raff. Curiously, the black haired man took the proffered object and studied the strange design etched in the surface.

"Some sort of talisman," he finally noted.

"A Ward," she nodded. "Commonly used in western pagan life back home. This one's a modified one from what I've seen. It's very similar to a Ward for safe travel."

"Well, didn't you say that woman was one of us?"

"You're not Sidhe, big guy," she stated. "But yeah, she was from Earth...the boy's mother. The Ward is common still, but there are little differences...as though this was modified for space travel." Raff returned the pouch to her. With a playful toss, she caught it again, placing it into one of the pockets on her cargo pants. "I don't like this, Raff. She was able to use an Earth rune. Here. On Sirius II. Raff, you know just as well as I do that isn't supposed to happen."

"Don't know what to tell you, Minnie," Raff shook his head. "We know it's not supposed to work outside of the Earth plane, but what you told me...I don't know..." He pointed his chin to her pocket. "Do you know what's in the pouch to make the charm?"

"I'm gonna have to study it a little more, but my knowledge is somewhat limited when crossing into human hybrid magic."

"I don't like this, Ryder," Raff growled. "I left Earth to get away from that shit."

"Me too, big guy," Minerva agreed with a solemn nod. "I'm going to have a nice talk with Ms. nicLennox in the morning. In the meantime, I've got to get back to work."

Raff nodded, climbing back to the transtector's service panel. "It'll be another five minutes."

"Make it two. I wanna be there in the case of some unplanned bar fights."

"Still got some pent up frustration to get out?"

"Raff, I've always got pent up frustration." She winked, climbing into the cockpit of her mech and starting up the system.

***   
Cybertronian Space

A pity he did not possess these abilities when he was alive.

A blink, and he was before a snivelling little mockery of a Cybertronian, and another, he was floating above his homeworld, staring down at the darkened metal and lighting. A fleeting feeling of insignificance surged within him, a feeling he quickly forced away. No other spark he knew of was able to survive death! He was superior to all! Even in death, he was very much alive, a god!

A god with many questions, he realised, as he willed himself to the decapitated head of Unicron, caught in an endless orbit around Cybertron, devoid of any physical life.

And yet Unicron still functioned, if not noticable.

Starscream could still feel power-not tangible, material power to run any systems, but a more metaphysical level of consciousness-coursing through the destroyer of worlds, one that would have made his corporeal form shiver nervously, a sense not unlike electricity in the air.

His spark traveled quickly, through the smashed optic of the dead god, an optic the size of a large lake. Now he had the sense of being drawn towards his destination, rather than of his own free will.

**"Welcome, Starscream,"** a deep, resonating rumble echoed through his ethereal sense.  **"I have been expecting you for some time now."**

"Have you, now?" The spectre scoffed, though betraying his uneasiness. "Why have you sent for me?"

**"A temporal loop, as it may, is in effect as we speak. You have come to me by the instructions of your future self. I know the questions you wish to ask, and the answers as well. And perhaps we can strike a deal, for which I already know of the outcome."**

Starscream willed himself into his translucent form, still floating towards the brainroom of the planet eater. "That I have, Unicron. I was told that I held a part in the grander scheme of things. What exactly is that part?"

**"That one, I am not allowed to answer."**

"'Not allowed?' But you are the great Unicron, eater of planets, the Destroyer! You are not one to be limited, one who will answer to no one! You are not allowed?" The ghost's tone was mocking, taunting. "And here I thought you were the most powerful force in the universe."

**"You misunderstand me, Starscream. I am Chaos personified. When I mean I am not allowed to answer, it is because it would threaten my existence for you to know the information I possess."**

"Then what is my destiny?"

**"Again, this is not a question I can answer, for again, it would threaten my existence. These will be told to you by another, whom I will direct you to before you leave."** Unicron paused.  **"You have no clue what to ask, do you?"**

"What is this 'entropy' that...Waspinator...spoke of? He mentioned that it was the fate of the universe."

Unicron chuckled.  **"Perhaps I was mistaken. Surely, as a scientist, you know the theory of Entropy."**

"Of course I do!"

**"Our universe is degrading. It ages, and it dies, like all things material. However, the chaos that is the universe would have to succumb to the inert uniformity Entropy would bring. Uniformity means Order, and Order is my enemy. But it cannot be stopped. Even I am powerless to halt its tide. In order to slow it down, however, one must add more and more chaos into the realm."**

"And how does one add more chaos without risking anarchy at a cosmic level?"

**"An intelligent question. I care not of the petty politics and governments of the lesser races. Anarchy means fighting, and fighting means death, and death is a type of order, more permanent than politics. In such a situation, sacrifices have to be made. As I am Chaos personified, those who serve Chaos possess a hierarchy...an order...of how they rule or govern. More to the point, one must add more chaos at a more cosmic, physical level, than the actual governance of a species."**

"While we are on the topic, we Transformers are mechanoids. We must have a strict order to operate at the physical level. What chaos do we possess, or are you content of destroying us all?"

**"I am the destroyer. I could not feel content nor remorse in destroying. It is my duty. As for your question, what separates most Transformers from artificial intelligence is the presence of a spark, a chaotic center of being, a soul. You are in fact creatures of balance, created by Order but governed by the Chaos that is free will."**

"So by your rationale, destroying our mechanoid shells and freeing our sparks would slow down this Entropy?"

**"In essence, yes, but remember: Death is order."**

"And you contradict yourself, Unicron," Starscream chortled cruelly. "You call yourself the Destroyer, but death is always in the wake of destruction."

**"And I said sacrifices were necessary. Death at an individual level is trivial. To destroy planets brings chaos to the cosmic balance, but the trivial deaths keep check so that the scales only tip to the side of Chaos, rather than destroying balance altogether. Like you, Starscream, I refuse to give up my destiny, even in death. I cannot destroy the Powers; only the physical shells they possess. Chaos still exists in this realm, even though I am thought to be dead. The fact of the matter is that a realm completely devoid of one Power cannot sustain any sort of existence, or else it becomes inert, entropic, or in a state of unrest, always in movement, random, unable to become something greater. Even I have come to accept the fact I would not be able to exist if I had nothing to destroy."**

"But still you have not answered my previous statement. I had questioned your rationale about destroying our shells."

**"You assumed that is what I had implied. You are mistaken."**

If there was one thing Starscream hated, it was to be corrected. He growled somewhat, narrowing his optics of his ethereal form. However, the conversation interested him. He allowed the travesty to pass. Instead, he introduced another topic.

"Then what of Galvatron and his Minions? From what I understand, you cannot create; you can only destroy. And Galvatron is as mechanoid as any other Transformer."

**"A wise observation, however inaccurate. I never 'created' Galvatron; I only rebuilt their broken shells."**

"Repairing them with the Order that you just spoke of. Of that point, your shell-your head we speak within-is very much built as Cybertronians are."

**"My shell was merely a vessel in which I was able to cross the vastness of the universe. As for Galvatron, Cyclonus, Scourge, and their Minions, I only build with what resources I have at hand. Therefore, I rebuilt them, rather than contradict myself and create fully chaotic shells. However, the chaos introduced to their sparks made them more of my Minions. I can control them, unlike other Cybertronians."**

"So Galvatron's insanity...was intentional?"

**"Correct. His insanity makes him unpredictable, destructive. He would just as likely destroy one of his own as much as he would an Autobot."**

"Then why didn't he destroy Artemis when he had the chance?" For emphasis, he pointed with a translucent finger to a spot of dried mech fluid before him, the spot where Galvatron had shot his partner, leaving her for dead. "Why did you betray Artemis's intentions? Clearly you have some telepathic rapport with Cybertronians to execute such a plan."

**"I betrayed her intentions to Galvatron because it was too soon for his demise. I still require his services. As I require your paramour's as well."**

Starscream flinched. "She is not my lover. Merely a partner of convenience. No more."

**"As you will. And yes, I do possess a telemetry that allows me, at close range, to see within the minds of like sentients. It is only with my Minions that I can communicate and control at extreme distances."**

"And what are your future intentions for Galvatron?"

**"Why, to start a war that would make the last one seem like a child's melee, of course. As we speak, I am in a game of chess, with myself as the opponent. Either way I move, I will win. When I move Galvatron in the right position, I will force him to attack the Autobots with all of the Decepticons. Of course, I know that by then, the Decepticons would be weakened, divided by loyalities and rumours."**

"The Autobots would defeat them!" Starscream shouted, angered by Unicron's revelation.

**"The Autobots will do no such thing. The Autobots are not ones to take advantage of a situation."** There was a great sigh.  **"I have told you all I am willing to regarding the situation at hand. Leave me now."**

"Not until you tell me what the grander scheme of the universe is, and my part in it."

**"This is what is important to you, then. Very well. Return to Cybertron. Venture below the surface five kilometers. You will find those answers in a chamber of stone."**

"What? Unicron, I desire a more concrete answer! Not to be sent on a fool's errand-"

**"And indeed you are a fool to irk me, Starscream. Leave me, before I decide you are fit to become one of my Minions as well."**

A fate like Galvatron's? Greedy for a new shell, Starscream rejected the concept after five clicks of thought, dispersing without a word.

And once more, Unicron returned to his dreaming.


	10. One for the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thundercracker finds himself drinking away his troubles with two Autobots, pouring his spark out to what went wrong in his life.
> 
> The barfights that followed were temporary distractions.

***

Four Winds Bar

Sirius II

A couple of drinks later, Thundercracker's head was dangerously approaching the counter, staring off at the mirror behind the bar.

"So," he over-punctuated the word, drawing it out longer than necessary, more to get the attention of his companions. Stormrave, on her seventh Nosedive, was humming some unintelligible song softly. "The 'Bots think Starscream's still alive somehow."

"Yep," Artemis nodded somewhat, her optics concentrated on the drink in front of her, her finger tapping against the glass.

"Thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" he questioned, his elbow sliding further away, lowering his head even more.

"What would Galvatron do then if he learns of that?" the black femme rebuted simply, yawning.

"Not good. But most of the Decepticons, if choosing the lesser of the two evils-"

"They'd rather follow Starscream than Galvatron, yeah, but then we get the fear involved...and that's where the Decepticons are weakest...they won't stand together."

"Either way, Art, we've gotta convince them."

"How? I'm hiding with the Autobots, and you're a low man on the totem pole."

"You've got charisma," Thundercracker pointed out with a smirk. "You got the Mighty Death wrapped around your little finger."

"Will you stop that? He's a good friend of mine. If he didn't want to do something, he won't."

"Why not just get the Decepticons revved up on rumours?" Stormrave suddenly interjected.

"Because Galvatron will suspect a conspiracy-"

"-like he doesn't already-" Artemis interjected Thundercracker's explanation.

"-and will start executing the true Decepticons. He's nuts, Autobot. I would think you would know that by now."

"He's not exactly the brightest light on the runway, now, is he?" Stormrave questioned.

"That wasn’t the problem, he just was always about raw power," Artemis grumbled. "One of the few reasons why Starscream got away with a lot of the slag he pulled. That and Starscream was damn good at what he did. But yeah, you can't win a war by brute strength alone."

The red and grey Autobot glanced over at the brooding black femme.

"What would have happened if Starscream was the leader?" she questioned.

"Dunno," Thundercracker shrugged. "He might have left the Autobots alone to their own devices and concentrate on other matters..."

"If Megatron hadn't even been built, we wouldn't even be in this situation," Artemis stated bluntly, angrily. "We wouldn't have had the Great War...we wouldn't had to worry about any of this..." She sulked for a couple of more clicks before resting her head on the table. "Starscream would still..."

"...he would still \love \you and not with power and glory," Thundercracker nodded, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder.

Stormrave sucked in a breath, wishing very much that she hadn't heard that. Her somewhat cloudy perception, some sense was made; here, she sat next to what seemed to be a pretty honourable sorts, a bit rough around the edges, but friendly and charismatic, more Autobot than anything else, which would make one question why she would leave the Autobots in the first place. With that one comment the Decepticon had revealed, it suddenly made sense.

Artemis had left the Autobots for love.

"If you knew he didn't love you anymore, why'd you become a Decepticon?" she then questioned.

Artemis glanced over at Stormrave with a slight turn of her head.

"I would appreciate it," she hissed, almost menacingly, "if this conversation never left this bar. Elita-One and Skyfire are the only ones who know what you have figured out; I don't need the rest of the Autobots breathing down my neck about it." With a sigh, she continued. "Yes, Starscream was a reason I left the Autobots, but it wasn't the only one. I never officially joined the Decepticons, either, in spite of popular belief. I was more affiliated here than either Decepticon or Autobot."

"A Spiral through and through," Barak suddenly commented, reaching over Thundercracker to take hold of Artemis's right hand, flipping it over to reveal a black, blocky spiral etched into her palm. "One of the best mercs in this place, after me, of course."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Barak," Artemis chuckled. "Go have another drink."

"Piss off," the Tauran chuckled. "Darxtar, you tin can, another round!"

"The Decepticons paid for my services, and knew I wouldn't take hit jobs," Artemis resumed.

"Unless Starscream asked her nicely," Thundercracker chortled.

"Quiet, you." the black femme cuffed his arm. "One thing that flyboy had always lacked was tact. I'll be the first to admit it." Her mood became sullen once more. "And as much as I hate to admit this, I miss the gearhead."

"We don't," Darxtar interjected, "But then, we always were telling you that he was no good." To Stormrave, he added, "Don't worry, kid; Art knew how to deal with that bastard better than Megatron did."

The jukebox was abruptly turned off in the middle of a Sirian dance beat as Drez shouted out "Last call!"

"Oh, slot," Onslaught grumbled at the end of the bar, "just when I was gettin' nice and hammered..."

"You know, I was expecting Astrotrain to be in here with us," Thundercracker added, his voice muffled in the counter. "Guess he's having too much fun playing with Gatecrash."

"So, the question being, you gonna leave Scourge here or wait for him?" Artemis questioned.

Without a second thought, both Decepticons retorted, "Leaving him."

"So, what are you going to tell Galvatron?"

"The truth: Autobots got you on heavy guard. You can't leave without an escort." Thundercracker waved a hand at Stormrave. "However, rumours are flying that Starscream is still alive, somehow."

"That's enough to get Galvatron paranoid enough to make more mistakes," Onslaught commented as the other sapients streamed out of the bar, leaving the Cybertronians, Barak, and a few other employees of the Four Winds. "The trick is to make him believe we're still loyal to him."

"The next plan of action would be to wait," Artemis pointed out. "Galvatron will attack the Autobots eventually. Play with him unless he attacks Autobot City on Earth or Iacon on Cybertron. If things turn to the favour of the Autobots-"

"--Which they will--" both Thundercracker and Stormrave stated in different tones, the former in depression, the latter in confidence.

"--Stop fighting. From there, we can contain the Minions themselves."

"And what about those who are loyal Decepticons?" Onslaught demanded curtly.

"Given the chance to regroup, refortify your stronghold."

"With me as the new leader," the Combaticon nodded slowly. "I can handle that."

"Great. Now that we got that settled-"

The door slammed open, and five humans in civilian clothing strode in with an air of aristocratic confidence. Had they came in earlier, the Cybertronians would not have taken notice; however, this was after-hours.

"We're closed, bubs," Drez commented as he put away glasses.

"We are here on EDC business," the lead human, a dark-haired man standing a little less than two meters tall, exclaimed, a slight, musical accent to his voice. "We are in search of one Luke MacArin, who was said to have been taken by a Sirian transport en route here."

"Sorry, you got the wrong place," the lupine retorted, Brin casually wiped down the tables just as Raff and Minerva, both in their transtectors, entered the bar once more. "We don't know anything about that."

"On the contrary, one of our informants had said otherwise."

"What the hell...?" Minerva hissed. "Oh, shit...load up conventionals."

"What?" Raff demanded.

"Load up contentionals, now!" she ordered under her breath. "Those aren't EDC!"

Another human male, this one significantly shorter with flaming red hair, shot his attention to the two transtectors.

"Marrion!" he barked to the first one he threw out his hand towards Minerva, a hand that flared as red as his hair as a beam of energy struck the black and orange transtector. Minerva stepped back in the recoil, then found herself unable to budge as her mech disintegrated around her. With a strangled cry, she found herself suspended momentarily before falling onto a pile of rusted debris that had once been her Roadrunner.

The remaining patrons and employees were dumbfounded, gaping at either the human or Minerva, before the draconian woman stood, dusting off her backside, and picking up her sword.

"That, you bastard," she growled, "was my baby you just toasted."

And, with that her only warning, she charged, only to run into a force field of some sorts, this time cast by the taller man.

"You will do no such thing, slave," he ordered, almost bored.

"Slot this, I'm outta here." Swindle scooped up his winnings into a pouch and proceeded to venture outside, only to fall back with an omph, pushed down by an unseen hand.

"Until we resolve this situation," another, this one female, stated, "you all are to remain here."

"We are not told what to do by mere flesh creatures!" Onslaught roared, forcing himself to stand. "Combaticons-"

"Onslaught, is that wise?" Thundercracker questioned quickly.

"--merge to form Bruticus!"

Artemis only covered her optics as the five Combaticons transformed to merge into the much larger robot, Bruticus.

"This should be interesting," Thundercracker muttered as the giant gestalt took a step forward towards the five humans-

only to stumble and fall, landing hard on his face.

The impact rocked the foundation of the bar, sending a cloud of dust up around the fallen robot. The five adversaries seemed as expectant of the situation as Thundercracker, Artemis, and Darxtar.

"I knew it," Artemis muttered.

"I should have cut Onslaught off at the twelfth drink," Darxtar added, deadpan.

**"Bruticus not functioning properly..."** the behemoth groaned.

"No slag, Bruticus is drunk," Thundercracker sniggered somewhat as the gestalt pushed himself back to his feet.

"There goes the bar," Darxtar grumbled as Minerva barked orders over the chaos.

"Brin, get everyone to the back!" Pulling out the ward she had confiscated from nicLennox, Minerva held it out towards the five. "You were brought here by request of nicLennox, weren't you?"

"The boy, draconian. Now." Marrion's voice grew even more cold as his eyes narrowed. "Or I will personally disintegrate each and every one of your metal friends until you bring him to us."

Drez merely glanced at Artemis and nodded. Unhitching her rifle, still loaded with a concussion, the black femme fired at the hip, aiming the ground at the interlopers' feet. A blinding, deafening explosion of light and sound resulted, off-balancing the five as Minerva took wing, diving down at the leader. The draconian tackled him, wrestled him for a short while before pulling off a talisman similar to the one she already possessed. Marrion seemed horrified as Minerva leapt off him, leveling her sword to his throat.

"Leave," she snarled, "or I kill you, Marrion. This is forged steel; if your lack of connection to Earth doesn't kill you, this will."

Stormrave, the nearest Cybertronian, stared in drunk fascination as already Marrion showed signs of rapid aging, his mouth moving to speak-

-just as Bruticus stumbled forward again, arms held above his head and clamped to deliver a brutal shoulderbreaker, had the opponents been larger-

-and as he crashed downward, the man nearest to Marrion, shaking off the effects of Artemis's concussion round, shoved Minerva out of the way and stared up at Bruticus angrily.

"You did not need to be involved, Cybertronian," he snarled as he brought his hands together, a fist clamped by the other, "but if you wish for destruction, then I shall be happy to accommodate!"

**"Puny human thinks he can take on Bruticus?"**

"Not good," Artemis hissed, loading another round into her rifle. "Thundercracker-"

"Way ahead of you, Art!" The Seeker leapt onto the partition wall, ready to let loose his sonic attack as Bruticus stumbled forward again, this time by Swindle dislodging from the gestalt and heading for cover in the restroom.

What happened after that became a bit of a blur. As Bruticus broke into a pile of drunk Combaticons, Onslaught on the verge of passing out, Marrion scoffed somewhat, spinning towards the blue and white Seeker.

"Let us see how you fare when we start destroying the Cybertronians," he commented, thrusting his hand out-

-when abruptly, the doors were kicked open, and an unfamiliar green Seeker was thrown forward, landing hard on the five interlopers.

The organic creatures in the bar winced at the slight splurt and crunch.

"That has got to hurt," Barak grumbled, sipping casually at his beer as he stood next to a shocked Stormrave.

"Cleanup in Aisle 7," Minerva jested dryly as Raff made a move to pick up the incoherent Seeker.

"I'm okay!" he slurred, pushing himself up to his hands and knees, looking down at the smoking mass below him. "Well, that's five less humans we need to worry about..."

"Oh, no," Artemis's hand twitched. "Airstrike."

"You know him?" Stormrave questioned, then apended, "Stupid question, you seem to know everyone."

"Why the Howl are they smoking like that?" Drez demanded to Minerva as she walked towards the organic mess.

"Sidhe," she growled, using the tip of her sword to pick up another talisman stained in blood. "The contact with the Cybertronian alloy has about the same effect as normal iron, it seems. Looks like we owe the klutz a thanks."

"Heh! No problem!" the one Artemis hailed Airstrike grinned as he looked down at where he landed. "Yep, I really did a number on those fleshies."

"Stormrave, let's go," Artemis hissed, taking hold of the other Autobot's arm, pulling her towards the back door.

"What's going on?"

"I'll explain to you on the way."

Two more Seekers, a violet and blue male and an orange and purple female, flanked Airstrike, giving the bar a once over before being pushed aside by another femme, this one red and black.

"We claim this establishment in the name of the Decepticon Empire!" she shouted.

"Sonyx, you ditz!" Darxtar chided. "This is neutral territory! You can't go claiming it!"

"Especially after hours," Drez pointed out gruffly as Minerva exited into the kitchen, Raff taking to the task of cleaning up the mess.

"Then serve us a round and we'll be on our way!" the female glanced around, noting the Combaticons and Thundercracker staring at the four newcomers. "Why, Thundercracker, long time no see! Are you still cowering in fear by Galvatron's shadow?"

With a dejected roll of his optics, the blue and white Seeker chose to ignore her, returning to the bar to sulk.

"You are welcome to join us!" Sonyx called after, resuming her gaze to Darxtar. "Old man, I need to ask you a favour."

"No, I'm not throwing out your tab," the rust-trimmed Decepticon retorted, crossing his arms over his massive chest.

"Nothing of the sorts...I got wind that my dear old friend is still alive...I just wanted to know if you've heard anything of his whereabouts."

"'His?'" Barak arched an eyebrow.

"I wasn't talking to you, meat," Sonyx snapped angrily. Resuming her conversation with Darxtar, she explained further. "The Autobots caught wind that the Air Commander is still alive. You hear everything, old man. I wanted to hear what you know of the situation."

"What I know? Heh...I know that Starscream's charcoal briquettes right now on the floor of the Decepticon Hall of Leaders," Darxtar glared down coldly at the Seeker femme. "Look, I'll serve you folks a round...but you get the hell outta here afterwards. We got a rather pressing situation that we have to clean up."

"Suit yourself, old man...if the Autobots think our Air Commander's still alive, then it must be true...he must be under cover..."

Sonyx and her three cronies trekked to the bar, Sonyx herself still muttering to herself, when Swindle finally emerged from the restroom.

"Is it safe?" he demanded, scanning the bar.

"Way to go, you jarhead," Brawl snarled as the yellow and violet Combaticon rejoined his brethren. "Totally abandon us in our time of need."

"I know when to fight and when not to fight," Swindle fought a laugh. "The fact of the matter is, you guys were piss drunk. So, where'd Arty disappear to?"

Thundercracker's head hit the bar, his cursing a mere rumble.

Her mug raised to her lips, Sonyx paused, her optics narrowed somewhat. For a span of five clicks, she did nothing. Finally, setting her drink untouched on the counter, she turned to face the smallest Combaticon, her face contorted in a sadistic grin.

"She was here?" Sonyx demanded, almost sweetly.

Swindle blinked, surprised at first. "Yeah...what's it to you?"

"Where is she?"

"Like I'm gonna tell you," Swindle taunted, "unless, of course, you got the money, hunny."

_ Swindle didn't see where Artemis went,  _ Thundercracker realised; however, he did know of the back door hidden in the back. Obviously, Sonyx did not; nor did she take too kindly to Swindle's attempt at extorting currency for information as she took hold of his chestplate, yanking him face to face.

"How's this? I don't blast you, you tell me where she went."

"Sweetspark, I have bills to pay, a family to fend for," Swindle explained mockingly. "I've got to make a buck somehow, and ol' Galvie gives me the same deal already...fifty stellar credits, and I tell you where she is."

"She went out the back," Brawl nodded towards the other side of the bar as he and Blastoff dragged Onslaught to a table. Swindle glared at his brothers angrily as Sonyx shoved him aside, storming to the obscured door.

"Darxtar," Thundercracker hissed, rising from his seat.

"Art's a big girl," the bartender chuckled. "She can take care of a windbag like Sonyx..."

"Can we get this placed cleaned up?" Drez ordered curtly. "If you're not employees, get out!"

Of course, the Combaticons did not reply to the flesh creature's demands; rather, they sulked over nearly empty beer mugs-

-for precisely five clicks.

"Throw-down," Vortex commented, bolting from his chair. Brawl and Blastoff, dragging Onslaught, followed suit outside.

"Throw-down? Where?" Swindle demanded, his anger ebbing as he brought up the rear.

"Throw-down!" Barak suddenly shifted from his normally piss-and-vinegar drunken stupor to a much more jovial and sober mood. "At last, some action!"

"Throw-down?" Airstrike perked up, along with his violet and blue companion, Sidewinder.

"Throw-down!" Sidewinder hooted, racing out the door. Airstrike tripped over his stool, fumbling to regain his balance as he tagged after his teammate.

"This I've got to see," Darxtar threw down his rag and took Thundercracker's arm. "C'mon, kid, this is gonna be good!"

*

"So this ‘Con wants you dead because you stole her date one night?"

"I told you it was stupid," Artemis ventured out into the Gatecrash hangar, where her optics locked onto a slight tan and black Sirian female in a flight suit working under the hood of a Shelby Cobra. "Trin!"

"Hey, Art!" The mechanic waved, throwing her wrench into a tool box. "Everything go okay?"

"Up until Sonyx showed up," Artemis stated. "Me and Stormy need to get outta here quick. Anyway you or Drez can get Skyfire on good behaviour?"

"No problem..." Trin wiped her hands on a rag, closing the hood of the car. "Gotta check with Drez and Ryder first but-"

There was a sudden shout. Stormrave pivoted, readying her laser as Sonyx stormed from the hangar's rear entrance, fists balled at her sides.

"Artemis!" the black and red Seeker challenged, pointing exclusively at the black Autobot. "Let's settle this, once and for all!"

"I was so hoping I could get through this night without getting into a fight," Artemis shook her head, turning slowly to regard the Decepticon. "But, seeing that's blown out the window twice already..."

"What, running away from me? How appropriate, from an Autobot coward-"

"Slot, dampener still in place!" Stormrave snarled, just as her companion laid a hand on her arm.

"My fight, Stormy...as I said before, this is personal between her and me." With a smirk, Artemis then returned her attention to Sonyx. "Fine, then, let's settle this. Outside."

"We will settle it right here, right now!" her adversary shrieked, lunging at Artemis. Bracing herself, the Autobot tackled Sonyx and shoved downward, ramming Sonyx's face into the tarmac. Swiftly, she picked up the Decepticon Seeker and dragged her out of the hangar, throwing her roughly towards the gathering crowd of sapients.

"What is this, a Pay-Per-View event or something?" Minerva commented, resuming her human guise.

"Now there's an idea!" Swindle brightened, only to be pummeled by his brothers.

Stormrave and Trin joined the crowd as Sonyx pushed herself to her feet. Balling her hands together, she swung upwards, hoping to catch Artemis's chin in the arch. The Starlight black femme stepped out of the way at the last possible click, causing Sonyx to overextend her attack and lose her balance. This left an opening in Sonyx's chest, which Artemis took shamelessly with a sharp thrust kick. Rolling back, the Seeker caught her breath and threw a powerful punch towards Artemis's face. With a quick sidestep, the Autobot took hold of her wrist and elbow and flipped her over her shoulder, Sonyx landing with a loud thud on her backside.

"So what brings you here to the Four Winds?" Artemis then questioned, dusting off her hands. "Surely not for a drink for the road..."

"The Air Commander's alive and you damn well know it!" Sonyx spat, pushing herself to her feet.

"News does travel fast," Artemis commented, dodging another punch effortlessly. "If he was alive, Sonyx, I would be the first to know it-"

"-Unless he finally realised you were unworthy to be considered a Decepticon!" Sonyx interjected. "Especially seeing you now!"

"You know, I'm really beginning to hate you," the black and chrome femme narrowed her ice blue optics.

"Girls, could you hurry it up?" Drez demanded, checking his watch. "I'll give you five more cycles before I bring out Gatecrash to break it up."

"What am I missing?" the wayward Decepticon transport finally joined the group, staring down at the fighting femmes.

"Where the hell have you been, Astrotrain?" Onslaught slurred. "We could've used you about a quarter-megacycle ago..."

"Not getting sloshed like some of my other companions," Astrotrain rebuted.

"If the gang's all here, let's bolt," Brawl suggested.

"What about Scourge?" Blastoff questioned.

"Leave him," the other Combaticons and Astrotrain retorted, deadpan.

Thundercracker glanced back at the two femmes still fighting and shook his head, somewhat sadly. He almost wanted to say to hell with Galvatron and the other Decepticons; he could get a job here, as Darxtar's assistant, and wouldn't have to worry about war anymore, only the occasional barfight.

With a slight salute to his old friend, he followed the Combaticons and Astrotrain away from the melee.

Darxtar watched them leave, then blinked.

"Swindle! Get your arse back here!" The Decepticon bartender ordered, bolting after them.

*

"Cleaned up all the nasty stuff," Raff joined the gathering, watching briefly the fight before returning his attention to his boss. "Anything else?"

"Might as well bring Skyfire up on good behaviour," the Sirian nodded, his arms crossed over his chest. "Leave Scourge to rot for a bit."

"Gotcha, boss," the orange-flamed transtector nodded, leaving the thinning crowd.

"Drez, I'm going to check in on Shon and the kid," Minerva stated, returning into the establishment. "Kick her arse, Arty!"

"What is going on?" the large shadow next to Airstrike questioned innocently.

"What does it look like-" the green Seeker turned to face the newcomer, then backed up, falling over Sidewinder. "What the-?"

Ritterkruez solidified, gazing down with bored violet optics on the two Seekers. Sidewinder and Airstrike froze in fear, then found their motor skills as they staggered away from the Mighty Death, colliding with their female companion, Foxfire.

"Welcome back, Ritter," Drez greeted. "Art and Sonyx duking it out, nothing important."

Ritterkruez's gaze resumed to the two femmes battling out. Artemis was resorting to very un-Autobot tactics, kicking up dirt into Sonyx's face, followed by a roundhouse kick to the temple.

"Can we get this over with soon?" the black and chrome femme demanded. "I've got plans tonight, if you don't mind."

"Infidel!" Sonyx screamed, lunging again with a punch, connecting with her opponent's left shoulder. With a pained cry as agony surged through her neural net, Artemis fell back, clutching her arm.

"What the...?" Brin gazed up at her husband. "Drez, that punch shouldn't have hurt her that much!"

"It's where Galvatron blasted her," Drez retorted coolly. "Trin, bring in Gatecrash to break it up."

"Will do, babe!" Trin nodded, activating her comm link.

"No need," Ritterkruez rebutted, stepping forward. Catching Sonyx's arm before she could land another jab to her opponent, he stared down at her impassively.

"Let go of me, infidel, or I shall-" She stopped dead cold when her optics met the space black Decepticon.

"That is enough," Ritterkruez ordered, releasing her with a slight shove. "I detest confrontation without reason."

"I have my-"

The Mighty Death landed a lightning quick slap across her face, sending her backwards.

"Leave. Take your friends with you, and may you never cross my path again."

"Well, that's one way to break up a fight," Barak chortled.

Sonyx narrowed her optics angrily; however, she was far from stupid. The other members of Vengeance Posse weren't going to aide her in this, and she was outmatched by the Mighty Death. Keeping her sight on Ritterkruez, she addressed Artemis.

"This isn't over between us, Autobot," she warned, touching off her engines. "Vengeance Posse, move out!"

The other three only glanced at each other before following suit, the four disappearing into the false dawn sky.

"Thanks, Ritter," Artemis gasped, rocking to her knees. "I owe you one."

He helped her up to a standing position. "I do not like to keep tabs, Artemis. You know that. I have some information for you as well."

"You're such a doll, sweetspark," she smiled slyly as the entire group returned to the bar.

"Those idiots annoy me," Darxtar snarled, his stride angry. "Swindle got away, the Primus-damned hussler. I tell you, Art, you're a great girl and all, but your taste in friends is horrific, especially that last lot! One of these days, I'm gonna blast the whole lot of them to the Pit, I swear!"

"Leave Sonyx for me, old man," Artemis appended. "Just so I can take out all my frustration on someone I don't have to worry about pulling a plasma cannon on me." To emphasize, she rotated her left shoulder with a sharp wince. "Well, if she didn't know my weakness, she knows it now, that's for certain."

"You should have listened to Zodiac and First Aid," Stormrave suggested.

"Oh, slag off, you," the black femme chortled. "I'm not the type to take anything easy. I thought you would know that by now."

"Actually, I figured that out the moment we stepped into this place."

"Well, that was productive," Drez grumbled, returning to the books on the counter. "Darxtar, what would you say the damage estimate is tonight?"

"A good twenty grand, at least."

"That's what I was afraid of," the Sirian bowed his head. "Brin, hunny, could you give the contractor a call in the morning and have him come take a look at what needs to be repaired or replaced?"

"Of course, babe," the black-furred tart confirmed.

"Why does it seem like everywhere you go, trouble follows?" Drez then demanded Artemis. "You're such a good girl, how is it you attract the scum of the galaxy?"

"It must be my charming personality, old wolf," she replied, deadpan, as Skyfire and Raff entered from the back.

"Sheee-it, you wouldn't believe how pissed off Scourge is!" the transtector laughed. "Madder than a hornet's nest right now, the bastard. And that's before I told him his crew left for Charr without him!"

Skyfire only shook his head, striding over to where Stormrave had taken a seat at the bar.

"Was there any trouble?" he questioned.

"Trouble?" Stormrave chuckled. "You missed three barfights. Art behaved, if that's what you're wondering."

"Perhaps it was for the better, then," the transport sighed. "What of the Decepticons?"

"Left about a quarter megacycle ago. They didn't cause any trouble either, surprisingly, though you missed Bruticus drunk."

Skyfire blinked, glancing over at Artemis, who still wore a sly smirk.

"It was rather interesting, big guy," the black femme commented, nodding her head. "I'm surprised he didn't start singing karaoke."

"The Quintessons have a rather complex base on Io," Ritterkruez then interjected. "I've also found evidence that they are building a station of some sorts on Deimos. That's all I could gather in the short time I could spare."

The bar was silent for a good fifteen clicks.

"Ritter, my friend," Artemis placed a hand on his shoulder, "we really need to work on your delivery."

"Io? Deimos? Those are moons in the Sol system!" Skyfire then declared, his tone betraying his worry.

"Jupiter's and Mars's, respectfully," Stormrave nodded. "Dammit, we've got to inform Rodimus and Elita-One ASAP!"

"I know..." Artemis stood, still cradling her arm. "Darxtar, put Stormy's drinks on my tab. Stormy, Skyfire, let's head home. We got what we came for, and then some."

Just as the three were about to leave, another Cybertronian, this one a dark sky blue and almost as large as Skyfire, pushed open the front door, his brooding expression seemingly in conflict by the Autobot symbol on his chest.

"What the hell happened here?" he demanded, locking gazes with Artemis. "Never mind. Answered my own question."

"Hey, Blue! Long time no see!" Artemis breezed by him, clapping the large mech’s shoulder. "You missed the party."

"Apparently so," Def Con retorted coolly, his gaze following her outside, then noted Skyfire and Stormrave follow without so much of a greeting to them.

"Looking for the usual, Def Con?" Barak questioned. "Besides Art's arse?"

"Shut up, meat," the blue space cruiser crossed his arms over his chest angrily.

Ritterkruez shot a bored glance over at Def Con, then faded into a shadow.

***

Interlude

Cybertron

_ How dare Unicron send him on a pointless quest! Idiocy! _

Undetected by anyone, Starscream ventured downward, below Cybertron's surface, as per the dead god's instructions.

Had he still been a scientist, he would have stopped to investigate the layers below the Cybertron he had known , the civilizations that had existed over ten million years ago, before the time of Alpha Trion and Vector Sigma, the time of Quintesson rule...past that...

Metal gave way to rocky caverns, stale air...these passages haven't been visited in aeons, Starscream realised. Some were dug, that much was apparent, perhaps by the Quintessons who first settled on this rock, but most were naturally worn away.

_ Naturally... _

His translucent form furrowed its brows in confusion. Cybertron was a natural asteroid...or even a planet of some sorts? The evidence was apparent here.

Still he pressed on...until he realised he was no longer moving on his own free will.

_ He was being led somewhere! _

With an angered shout, he attempted to no avail to will himself back upward.

"Release me!" He cried out. "Release me, whoever you are! I command it!"

There was no response, only a harder pull to his spark, yanking him downward still.

And then, nothing.

He had halted, hovering before a stone bridge over a deep chasm. Glancing around, he noted almost curiously the carved walls around him, designed etchings in the rock.

"What is this place?" he whispered, slightly awed.

There was a burst of light from the center of the bridge, a portal of some sorts. The flash died almost instantly; the circular structure, however, exposed a moving image of deep space, stars and galaxies spinning idly.

"Some sort of crude astronomical observatory?"

_ "No." _

The voice, gender-neutral, one built from many, echoed through the cavern.

"Who is there? I command you-"

_ "You command nothing, Starscream."  _ Lacking any force, it seemed to have been stating the obvious rather than chiding.  _ "You are bound by your destiny. Your death and rebirth is part of the Cosmic Balance." _

"Identify yourself!"

_ "We are not a singular entity, Starscream. We are the Allspark, the Matrix." _

"The Matrix? The Matrix of Leadership?"

_ "We are linked to both the Autobot Matrix of Leadership and the Decepticon Matrix of Power. We are, and we are not. You have been brought here for a purpose, Starscream. Do you know what that purpose is?" _

"To learn of..." his own voice dove suddenly, finding his confidence sapped. For a fleeting instant, as he gazed into the image of infinite space, he felt insignificant. "...My destiny..."

_ "The concepts of good and evil, right and wrong are unimportant to the Cosmic Balance. Your destiny will prove that in the stellar cycles to come. Unicron, Chaos personified, has told you of the necessity to bring more chaos into the universe. We, too, see the dangers of reaching Entropy. You will be our Champion when the time comes. You will reach your destiny, your dream. Your death was only the beginning. And in the end, you will stand alone." _

His mind swam, his confidence restored ten-fold.

_ "It is, however, too soon. Autobots and Decepticons are not as one. You will return here when the time comes and be resurrected." _

"Why not now?" he snarled.

_ "You need to learn lessons that you could in no way understand as a corporeal form. You are at an advantage now. But until you have accomplished what you need to know, you only prolong your destiny further." _

With an angry hiss, Starscream spun, bolting out of the chamber.

_ "The seeds of the future lie buried in the past, Starscream." _

The Oracle then blinked out, leaving only an empty chamber of ghosts.

***

Four Winds Bar

Luke and Shon, a tall, white lupine in flowing white and gold robes over a sleeveless dress with a knee-high skirt, entered the bar, shocked at the disarray of the place.

"Drez, what happened here?" Shon demanded, storming to face her husband, her robes billowing out behind her. Drez glared up from his morning coffee, his gold eyes bloodshot.

"This is the absolute last time I do charity stunts!" the peppered grey lupine snarled, glaring at Luke. "A pain in the arse, I tell you...at least the fuckin' Nebs'll leave us alone for a bit."

"Which reminds me...they're still in the lockup," Minerva yawned, exiting the kitchen with her own mug of coffee. "I should go check in on them."

"Listen, I'm sorry for causing all this trouble-" Luke apologized, cut off by Drez raising his hand to stop him.

"I don't wanna hear it. For now, we'll just figure out what to do with you...we could use a hacker in the long run. Right now, get out of my sight. I got other concerns."

"Like breakfast," Minerva grumbled, returning to the kitchen. "C'mon, Luke...let's get something to eat."

The human male nodded somewhat, glancing over at Drez with an apologetic look to his face as he followed Minerva through the dutch doors.

"So what happened?" Shon questioned, taking a seat at the counter.

"Good ol' Artemis...never a dull moment when she comes around, but lemme tell you," he pointed a finger playfully at his eldest wife's nose, "she's trouble, even if she doesn't mean to."

"She pays her commission cut," the white lupine countered, taking the accounting book by Drez's arm and skimming the numbers from the previous night. "She never allows her tab to exceed a one-hundred, she volunteers to be a bouncer on the more rowdy nights-"

"Shon, sweetie, it's not her, it's her friends!" Drez groaned, resting his head on the counter. "Ever seen a drunk Bruticus?"

"No, but that would explain the large crack in the floor."

"It's not a pretty sight, let me tell you. Though I must admit, most of the damage was caused because of Minerva's charity streak!" his voice rose loudly as he directed his comment to the kitchen. "I should have drawn the line with the bug, and even then, I must have been on prescription cough syrup to allow that!"

"Dear, her charity mirrors your own," Shon clamped her hand over his. "You took her in when she had nowhere to go, the same with Darxtar and Barak. And they all delivered results to you, whether on the floor or out in the field. Just as I think this boy will."

"Shon, this kid is hot on the market," Drez shook his head, placing one of the talismans from the Sidhe in front of his wife. "None of the others were. We had a hostage situation last night, one that almost turned nasty if it wasn't for that klutz Seeker tripping onto them."

"There's power from this," Shon picked up the ward, studying it. "A connection of Sol III, as weak as it is. They were bending but not breaking their rules of nature."

"Clever, eh?" Drez snorted. "That means that we not only have Nebs to worry about but those damn Sidhe as well."

"Perhaps this will send a message to both races not to pick fights on commerce planets."

"Perhaps it would be seen as an invitation," Drez growled. "Trying our defenses."

"Allow me to write up the official report to the regulators. The boy is legally in our custody if the Nebulons and the Sidhe want him for ill purposes."

"True. But I can't have my bar shot at every night!"

"It won't, love." Shon leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "Just leave everything to me."

*

Minerva glanced up at her plate of eggs and sausage to regard Luke, who had barely started on his own breakfast.

"Hey, kid, what's wrong?" she questioned, taking a bite out of a piece of toast.

"Listening to them," he nodded back to the main room. "I never realised how much trouble I've caused these past couple of days."

"Luke, sweetie, we have days like that all the time," she chuckled. "Some more than others. Drez may seem gruff, but he's a good man. He wouldn't have allowed you to stay if you weren't worth it."

"Not just an investment?"

"Oh, sweetie, he may tend to think in dollar signs, but he's got a heart of gold. I mean, look at Waspy."

"Leave Waspinator out of this, please?" The wasp zipped over from the sink to the bench Minerva sat upon, landing next to her. "Waspinator had slag time last night with Ghostbot."

"The Air Commander still bothering you, hunny?" she cooed, stroking the area between his antennae. "Oh, I wish I could do something about it..."

"Anyway, where else can I go?" Luke demanded, munching on a strip of bacon.

"Four Winds tends to be a last resort for everyone, Luke," Minerva explained. "It's better than most last resorts I know of, that's for certain."

"So what now?" he questioned softly.

"Now in general?" she sighed, placing her toast back on her plate. "Now, we do what we always do. Business as usual here. My biggest concern is keeping you safe from the Nebulons and the Sidhe, though."

"Speaking of which," Luke's tone dropped to a mere whisper, "my mother is here, isn't she?"

Minerva sighed again, then nodded slowly.

"Yes. She's been with the Nebulons all this time."

Luke leaned back in his seat, his foot tapping quickly on the floor; otherwise, he made no other response.

"What is it, Luke?"

"I don't think it matters," he hissed. "I don't feel anything for her anymore. She abandoned me, she helped attack my new friends...all I can feel for her is contempt. I shouldn't, but that's what I feel. All that time on the streets taught me that. No matter what, you're always alone."

"Not always," Minerva corrected. "I've been alive longer than anyone can imagine, kiddo. Lived in three different parts of the multiverse during that time. And I know damn well that no matter where you go, you are bound to find friends you can call your own."

"Morning," Raff yawned, trudging into the kitchen. "Bruticus really did a number on the floor out there, you know." He greeted Luke with a nod, sitting down next to him. "Trin's been working on that Cobra in the garage for you, Ryder. Too bad about your Roadrunner."

"And I swore off Fords," Minnie jested. "Oh, well, might as well be a Shelby, then."

"What's the game plan for today?" the larger male questioned as Waspinator flew to the stove to make another breakfast plate up.

"Well, I'm going to do a little interrogation with the Nebs and nicLennox. Darxtar will be dealing with Scourge, though you might want a Gatecrash detail to escort him back to the warpgate. Then I'm going to take a nice, long bubble bath until about one hour till my shift, and it's back to work."

"Not a problem." Raff rubbed his hands together as Waspinator set a plate full of eggs and bacon in front of him. "Thanks mucho, bugboy...I'm starving!"

"Waspinator like feeling appreciated!" The wasp brightened his mood somewhat, returning to Minerva's side.

"So bugboy, what's with the ghost of the Air Commander?" Raff then queried, his mouth already full of fried egg.

Waspinator sighed, placing his head on the table to look up at the human with indifferent optics.

"Ghostbot not gonna bother Waspinator no more...Ghostbot got what Ghostbot wanted. But Waspinator know what going on now...Program told Ghostbot of future events...but from what Waspinator understand, events must happen or else...entropy."

"Entropy?" Luke repeated.

"Waspinator, was that word in your vocabulary before or after the Ghostbot incident?" Raff demanded.

"Raff," Minerva warned sharply.

"Entropy is bad change...entropy means order...inert order. Waspinator know that."

"It's important to maintain the Cosmic Balance," Minerva ran her hand through her high ponytail. "Shit, we need to call a moot and fast."

"What?" Luke questioned.

"Nothing of importance to you, kid," Raff retorted.

"You do know what this sounds like, right?"

"If you say a pulp Moorcock novel, I'll cuff you," Minerva rebutted, standing. "In the meantime, I'm going to borrow Drez's junker and visit our friends the Nebulons."

"Minnie, can I go with you?" Luke gazed up at the woman, his eyes wide.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Raff rebutted, shovelling another mouthful of breakfast.

"Raff's right, Luke; I don't know how bad the Nebs want you. Also, if we let them know you're here, they might attack with a greater force."

"Nebulons risk barter regulations?" Waspinator queried, taking to the air.

"That's what I'm afraid of. If they want you bad enough, Luke, they might end up risking their connections to commerce here. The chief reason why very few attack us is because we're their only place to get necessary supplies, especially those that can't be acquired by piracy." Minerva smiled softly to Luke. "I know you want to talk to your mother, sweetie. I'll see what I can do about arranging for something. In the meantime, stick with Waspy and Raff."

"Yeah, kid, you can come down and meet Scourge with me," the large man laughed. "Teach that no-good Sweep not to screw with Four Winds, eh, Ryder?"

"Don't start with me about the damn Sweeps," the female waved a finger at Raff as she exited the kitchen, finding, not surprisingly, Drez and Shon still at the counter.

"Minnie, I swear, I'll fire you next time you bring in another stray," Drez growled, not looking up from the books.

"Old wolf, you know my strays tend to pull their weight in platinum around here," she scolded. "Mind if I borrow your old suit to deal with the Nebs? Just to strike the Fear of Mab in them, of course."

"I don't care, just remember the gear ratios are a bit tight...you may have the strength to handle the old girl, but your proportions are all wrong." The male lupine stood, puffing out his chest in pride. "That baby was designed specifically for my grandsire during the Commerce Wars nearly a thousand stellar cycles ago."

"I know the background; I'll be careful with your precious."

With a wave and a wink, Minerva breezed past Barak, who was wielding a broom to sweep up debris from the prior night, to the back door.

"We fire her, we fire her group, and we find real help, sound good?" Drez questioned Shon.

"No, dear."

"Damn," he grumbled as Raff, Waspinator, and Luke exited the kitchen.

"Hey, boss, mind if I take Luke out in one of the Gatecrash MSes?" Raff demanded roughly, flipping a thumb back at the younger, much smaller man with his hands shoved into his pockets. "We're gonna go play with Scourge for a bit before sending him on his way home."

"Just don't get the poor dear killed, all right, Raff?" Shon answered sweetly just as Drez opened his mouth.

"What makes you think I would do such a thing to my new buddy here?" Raff chortled, striding towards the exit.

"Why am I suddenly fearing for my life?" Luke then asked Waspinator as he followed.

"Bugboy, stay here," Drez finally ordered after glaring a warning to his eldest wife. "We need to talk."

Waspinator hovered with a slight groan, then careened towards the bar. Transforming into bot mode, he took a seat next to Shon, his wings, head, and antennae slumped as he leaned over the counter, seemingly ashamed.

"No more ghost-bot, right?"

"Affirmative."

Drez resumed a lock on Shon's gaze.

"You know about Waspinator's little problem, right?"

"Luke informed me at the temple last night," the white lupine explained, resting a hand on Waspinator's shoulder. "Waspinator, you know we're here to help you."

"Speak for yourself, woman; he's here to do dishes," Drez retorted gruffly, finally leaving his position to clean up some more on the floor.

"Ignore him, dear," Shon shot a glare to her husband.

"Affirmative. Doggiebots been nice to Waspinator past twenty stellar cycles."

"We wouldn't have it any other way. Now, tell me from the beginning what had happened..."

*

Trin was working on pieces of a Chevrolet Avalanche with Darxtar when Minerva entered the spacious hangar. Staring for a full ten clicks at the mess, she realised the two were building another transtector.

"You know, Trin, this little hobby of yours really does come in handy," she pointed out with a chuckle as she ventured towards the mobile suit bay where Drez's blue and silver armour stood, its sword hung neatly next to it. It seemed that part of Drez's morning was spent cleaning and polishing the ancient suit, from the way the sun struck the metal, glinting painfully.

"Well, I just finished the Cobra," the Sirian nodded towards the small sportster ten meters away. "Darxtar's going to help me with the transformation cogs for this baby. Ever notice the rough jarring sensation in your old Roadrunner?"

"I thought that was normal," the human stated, releasing the hatch to the cockpit of Drez's suit. "What caused that?"

"A simple gear ratio in the cog, at least to us Cybertronians," Darxtar answered, picking up the front fender and axle of the Avalanche with one hand. "Requires a few modifications when working with custom transtectors. The mass-produced ones Gatecrash uses are built around the transformation cog, so the jarring isn't noticeable; making one from these pieces of Terran slag need something a little more sturdier."

"Well, anyway, I have dibs on the Avalanche when it's finished," Minerva slid into the cockpit, fastened the harness, and stepped into the leg controls. Pulling down the chest, she then took hold of the arm braces. "Cobra's nice and all, but I tend to like working big."

"Suit yourself; I'll just have to put poor Stunrunner into storage until someone wants to play with him."

"You named it already?"

"Of course..."

"And I thought my hobbies were weird," Minerva chuckled, unlocking the mobile suit's gears and stepping forward with a jarring thud against the tarmac. "Wow, Drez was right; this thing is cumbersome."

"Makes you appreciate the automated systems, eh?" Trin chuckled. "In the Academy, we had to learn to operate the manual transtectors before working with the powered ones."

"Well, can't use those when dealing with the Nebulons, unfortunately." Minerva took another step to test her bearings. "Speaking of which, Draxtar, Raff's taking the kid out in one of the Gatecrash transtectors to release Scourge. You'd better accompany them."

"I love this job," The Decepticon grumbled, giving Trin a nod before exiting the hangar.

"Some night, eh, Ryder?" Trin chortled, examining her blueprints.

"I'm just hoping that those two Bots are as trustworthy as Art thinks," the human retorted. "Drez is right; she tends to attract the wrong crowd, even when her intentions are good. She shouldn't trust the Combaticons, exclusively Swindle, as much as she does, especially when involving Thundercracker."

"I don't like it any more than you," the Sirian female nodded.

There was a slight silence.

"Without his big brothers to push him around and overall protect him..." Minerva mused aloud.

"What?"

"I don't think Art realises it, but I'm willing to put money down that Thundercracker's going to be in serious slag because of this...I know it."

"In any case, paranoia will probably keep him alive, then."

"Perhaps...but I still worry."

With that, Minerva thundered out of the hangar to the detention hold's entrance across the lot.

*

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!" Raff called out, his transtector glinting off the morning sun menacingly as he and Luke, now clumsily donning a light-weight blue and white model, ventured down into the hold, Darxtar taking up the rear. "Scourgie, time for you to come out and play!"

"Insolent insect!" Scourge snarled, standing at the bars with a horrific expression on his bearded face. "I shall destroy you with my bare hands!"

"Look at me, I'm shaking," the human taunted, unhitching his rifle and powering down the force grid. "Come on, sweetheart, Galvie's not gonna like the fact that you didn't come home with the others."

"For this, we shall destroy this planet!"

Raff leveled the barrel of his rifle to Scourge's face, his transtector's smirk mirroring his own.

"Please. Your weapons are useless in the dampening field, you're smaller than me, and besides, you're ugly, an idiot, and I don't like you. Now, I'm letting you go back to Galvie alive, which is better than letting you go back to Galvie in a garbled heap of parts inside a black body bag, I would think..."

Scourge snarled, flinging himself towards the larger transtector, just before he suddenly felt his motor skills shut down. Landing hard, short of his goal, the Sweep commander regained enough power to lift his head to regard the other transtector behind Raff.

"Sorry," Luke apologized meekly.

Darxtar drew his rifle with a curse. "Dammit, I wanted a reason to slag him!" he snarled.

"Good work, kid!" Raff picked the stunned Scourge up by an arm, setting him back on his feet and brushing off his shoulder. "Now, buddy, why don't you get outta here before I have to kick your ass?"

"Mark my words, human," Scourge spat, "this insult will not be tolerated. Galvatron will lead his army-"

"'Army?'" Darxtar chortled. "Correction: Megatron had an army. Galvatron has a bunch of pansy-assed Minions and some disgruntled Decepticons. Go ahead. Bring your 'army,' and we'll show you why folks are afraid of screwing with commerce planets!"

"Is that such a good idea?" Luke hissed, only to be shoved aside by an irate Scourge. Darxtar glared down at the transtector as he too passed.

"Shut up, meat," the Decepticon growled as he followed Scourge outside, rifle to the prisoner's back.

"This isn't over," the Sweep commander growled, touching off his jets as he transformed into his oblong battle vehicle mode.

"Don't worry, kid," Raff chuckled, helping the other transtector up. "Megatron attacked this place once before, soon after he awoke in 1984, only to get his ass whupped. Afterwards, we invited them all in for a round. It's our way."

"You're not afraid of them attacking again?"

"It's like baseball here," the black and orange transtector led the way back to the morning sunlight. "Three strikes, you're out. Megsies only attacked once, then decided that it was more profitable to let us be. We're neutral, we don't get involved with civil wars, the only thing he had a problem with was the fact we served to Autobots as well. Mostly bad-assed mofos like Arty and Def Con, but Autobots, nonetheless. Drez didn't make money choosing sides."

"Again, it seems that Drez revolves around money."

"Money revolves around Drez. It's the Sirian way. Come on, kid; Bugboy might have given you the ten-cent tour...allow me to show you the other side of Sirian life."

*

"Okay, you pieces of slag, wake up and listen up!" Minerva's heavy footfalls echoed in the older part of the hold, where conventional bars made of super-dense alloy held three humanoid prisoners. "NicLennox, your other buddies came around last night looking for your kid. Dude's name was Marrion."

"Marrion?" The blue and gold-armoured woman bolted to the bars. "What the hell was he-how did he-"

"Ah, so you're not on friendly terms with him, then," Minerva chortled, glaring down at nicLennox. "He was looking for the kid, of course. As for how, he and his cronies were wielding similar talismans you had."

"Where is he? I will have words with him!" The soprano Scot accent shook with anger.

"Dead. A freak accident, really. A klutz Seeker fell on him and his gang. Real mess. Not pretty at all. Anyway, where were we? Oh, yeah. Under the Sirian Codex of Privateering and Proprietership, section 465-Epsilon, subparagraph 17, Luke MacArin, of legal and consenting age by his own Terran government, has requested asylum from the Sirian establishment Four Winds, owned and operated by the Clan of the Shadow. The Four Winds has granted Mr. MacArin requested asylum, and is now processing the necessary paperwork to grant Mr. MacArin full employee rights under the Sirian Codex of Privateering and Proprietorship, section 56-Omega, subparagraph 3. Forsooth, under the Sirian Codex of Privateering and Proprietorship, section 465-Epsilon, subparagraph 54, any and all relations between Mr. MacArin and next of kin-in this case, one Arin nicLennox-will be done through his sponsor and speaker, Minerva Sophia Andromeda Delilah Seraphina Ryder- _ c'est moi _ -public relations and security manager of the Four Winds. Now, did you understand that, or shall I go into further detail?"

"Are all humans windbags?" Gavin Zarak snarled.

"No more than the Baen Sidhe," Minerva rifled back, however sweetly. "And you, Gavin, Zarak, will be brought up before the Sirian Triumvirate, under the Sirian Codex of Privateering and Proprietorship, section 74-Gamma, subparagraph 4, disturbing the peace in a private establishment, as well as Intragalactic Alliance amendment 743: manipulation of a sentient without his, her, or its consent, a serious offense, might I add. You, unnamed lackey," she turned to the third Nebulon in the terracotta and gold armour, "have a choice: you may return to your ship, for you were only following orders of your superior, or you may speak up in defense of Gavin Zarak, thus sharing his punishment."

"Talos, return to the ship," Gavin Zarak ordered softly.

"Aye, my lord," Talos nodded reluctantly as Minerva activated her comm link.

"Barak, I need an escort for Zarak's lackey back to the diplomat ship."

_ "Piss off, Ryder...I'm busy." _

A sudden squelching rang in her ear abruptly. With an angry curse, she kicked out at the bars to where Gavin Zarak was staring at her moments before. The force and the surprise sent the Nebulon reeling back into his cell.

"What did you just send?" she snarled angrily.

"None of your concern, human!"

"The hell it isn't!" Minerva snapped. "The three of you are staying put!"

With that her final words, the ancient mobile suit stormed out of the hold, the heavy iron door slamming shut, blocking the daylight.

"Barak!" Minerva snarled to the Tauran lumbering past her. "Change of plans. The bastards jumped on my comm link."

Barak arched a heavy brow, pivoting sharply to follow Minerva back to the hanger.

"Drez, contact Sirian Regs and have them detain the Nebulon diplomat ship! We have a breach of security! Inform them that Gavin Zarak hacked into my communication system!"

_ "Shit, Minerva, why do you do this to me?" _

"'Cuz I love you, you big furrball. And I didn't know they were capable of pulling that off. Little tidbit, though: the Baen Sidhe and the Nebulons are not working together, from what I understand from nicLennox. These were two separate accounts, just coincidence they happened on the same night, right after each other."

_ "I'm on it, cleaning up your mess." _

"I'll clean it up Sol-side, old wolf; book me an appointment with your cousin at EDC."

_ "At last, you take responsibility. Consider it done." _

"Thanks, Drez. Raff, Luke!" Minerva beckoned the two other transtectors heading towards them. "We have a breach. Let's get ready to do some cleaning."

"So much for that bubblebath, eh, Ryder?" Raff chortled. "Luke, looks like you're gonna get a crash course in how the Four Winds handle trouble this big."

The four marched into the hangar, where Trin was already bringing the Gatecrash mobile suits online.

"Are we preparing for war or something?" Darxtar demanded from the tail of the group.

"Drez wants us to be prepared in the case the Nebs decide to retaliate. The Sirian Global Police are detaining the Nebulon diplomat ship on the IA charges, and Shon is hand-delivering the report to the Triumvirate as we speak." Trin took a deep breath as Minerva replaced Drez's armour in its bay.

"I can't believe I caused all this trouble," Luke whispered softly.

"Hey, it's been a long time since we had action like this," Barak chortled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The switch from Elder to Black was jarring; one moment, the Elder was quietly taking note of the scene, observing diligently...  
> ...and then in a blink, Black was scouring the sea of faces, searching for that one she knew she would never find.  
> "I'm sorry," she admitted, bowing her head. "I just miss him so damn much."  
> "I don't think this had much for what you needed anyway, no matter how alert the Elder was in her studies," Mac admitted. "And truthfully, who could blame you? This brought up strong memories...strong emotions for you."  
> "Not here, though. But...just the type of establishment. The mood." She furrowed her brow. "And that information I'm searching for...I haven't even lost him yet." Frowning, she balled her hands into fists against the surface of the bar. "Elder is better with emotion than me, but I have the necessary connection to acquire the schematic. There must be a way to keep my focus on the task."  
> "Your conjunx endura isn't here," Mac assured. "You never knew him until your iteration."  
> "Is he already dead in this reality?" She demanded. "It's okay. You can tell me. It would make it easier for me to know if he was."  
> "I honestly don't know, my girl. I can only pull the images from those who sit with me know. And because you as Brash and he never crossed paths...I cannot answer that."  
> "Well. Thank you for being honest about it." Black nodded, steeling her nerves. "Okay. Let's continue." _


	11. Answers and Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Autobots go over their findings, and Kup finds himself in possession of a contract that gives him unlimited access of the Four Winds' prized mercenary...with the threat of one of the most powerful empires coming down around their audio receptors if ill tidings were to fall upon her.
> 
> Outside the command hub, the emergence of another threat arises among the Autobot ranks: the Ten-Mile Orange Bomber.

***

Autobot City

Earth

Kup. Ultra Magnus. Rodimus Prime. Blaster. Wreck-Gar. Perceptor. Skylynx. Spike Witwicky.

The department heads of Autobot City, Artemis mused somewhat, as she stood by the door, watching with unclouded optics. Skyfire stood next to her, his expression unclear.

The digital uplink was established to Iacon; Elita-One, along with her own department heads behind her, were projected on the viewscreen. Tension was nearly overwhelming in the room alone; outside the doors, Artemis could hear the other Autobots air intakes whirring with anticipation, straining to hear what was going on within.

"Skylynx confirmed it," Rodimus stated, his voice mature with dark realisation. "Artemis's contact was right. The Quintessons are staging bases on both Deimos and Io."

Skyfire bowed his head, his optics clenched shut. "Why must our existence revolve around war?" he hissed, more to himself than anyone else.

_ "Is there any indication on their weapon status?"  _ Elita-One questioned, fighting to keep her emotions in check.

"From what I have observed, their defenses are all operational. I did not wish to risk a further scan to alert the Quintessons to my presence." Skylynx replied.

"Then taking the initiative would not be a wise idea," Ultra Magnus drummed his fingers on the table.

"Then the question would be, are they mobile?" Kup demanded.

"From the sounds of it, I would say not," Artemis interjected. "If they were, we would have been alerted by now."

"We don't know enough about the bastards to assume that, lass," the old soldier refuted.

_ "Then let's assume that they do have the capabilities to launch an attack on Earth. That being the case, step up your defenses. It's better to be safe than sorry." _

"Will do, Elita," Rodimus nodded.

"Elita-One, is there any information from your science department that would benefit our knowledge on this Unicron virus?" Perceptor then questioned.

Artemis drew in a breath, weaving a cover story inside her head for her next statement. "A low-end electromagnetic pulse," she then exclaimed, however softly.

She needn't look up to feel everyone's optics on her. They knew she was no scientist. Quickly, she covered her tracks.

"While at the Four Winds, I gathered some information from another contact within Galvatron's forces. They have found a temporary counter to the virus using a low-end electromagnetic pulse, wiping temp files out of our memory banks, where it seems that the virus is planting some of its programming."

She met the gaze of Ultra Magnus, his expression unreadable.

"A Decepticon contact?" he queried, his voice low. "Who?"

"Artemis, the Decepticons are not trustworthy," Skyfire hissed downward. she chose to ignore his comment for now.

"I would rather not say, for his protection. If Galvatron caught wind of his betrayal..."

_ "Would it hurt to try?"  _ The pink femme questioned.

"Theoretically, no," Perceptor answered truthfully. "The worst it would do is in fact wipe out the temporary files stored within memory. Normally, our own systems clean out those files on a daily basis, but if the Unicron Virus does in fact store programs there that will not delete on their own-"

"Would that be like trying to delete an executable file from an Earth-based system?" Spike inquired. "Where the system will ask you if you really want to delete the file?"

"Exactly!" Perceptor nodded enthusiastically. "In any case, our protocols will not allow automatic deletions of programs embedded in our system unless it is a known and dangerous virus!"

"And since the Hello Dolly is no more dangerous than Buster and Babs Bunny no relation on the surface of the happy apple pie..." Wreck-Gar babbled.

"Wreck-Gar's right, this virus isn't hostile; merely annoying at this point." Spike pointed out.

"You're forgetting Soundwave," Artemis interrupted again. "He is totally incapacitated by this virus."

"From what you had told us prior, Artemis," Perceptor continued, "he had been infected twice with the initial program. That might have been the cause of his current state."

"Meaning that it is possible that it is treatable and perhaps even curable at the current level we're experiencing," Spike snapped his fingers.

"For now, at least," the Autobot scientist complied. "However, it is difficult to map out the original carrier virus we as Cybertronians already possess."

As if on cue, the war room's doors slid open, and Zodiac pushed through the crowd of Autobots gathered in front of the door, a datapad in one hand.

"Iffin ye's don't mind, I may have somethin' of interest on the subject," the heavy accent of the colony Autobot drifted through the room before he did, making his way to the table. With a quick interfacing from the holo-projector to the datapad, he brought up a systems schematic. "When I'se ran a system diagnostic on Cavalier after her operation yesterday, I'se found that she had the carrier program. Of course, this worried me, so I'se starting going scan-happy on all personnel I'se could find...Bumblebee, Jazz, Springer, Arcee...everyone had it, as we'se thought. Save when I'se ran the diagnostic on the Dinobots. None of them had it. But then I'se found same was true for the Aerialbots or the others that were built on Earth. None of them had the necessary program to start the virus."

"So by that rationale, the Dinobots and Arialbots are immune?" Rodimus assumed.

"Not just that, me son...bein' frank, any Autobot built off-planet-in this case, Cybertron as well as Beta Cybertronia-doesn't have the initial carrier virus. Stormrave and meself, bein' from further colonies, don't have it."

"This is a breakthrough!" Perceptor exclaimed brightly. "Rodimus, I would like to resume the studies as soon as possible. If Zodiac's research is indeed accurate, then we might be able to isolate the carrier and neutralize it prior to the full virus."

_ "It may be our only lead,"  _ Elita-One broke the silence from her end with a slight nod.  _ "In the meantime, I recommend keeping base defenses at condition yellow. Artemis, I need to speak to you in private." _

"Magnus, Kup, you heard the lady," Rodimus nodded towards the two veterans. "Let's step up security and defenses. Perceptor, Spike, work with Zodiac-"

_ "Cavalier to Rodimus,"  _ the white and black Autobot blipped into the corner of the viewscreen.  _ "We have a transmission for Artemis from EDC on Sol IV. Priority orange." _

"Popular today, aren't you, Art?" the red and yellow leader chortled somewhat. "Skyfire, escort her back to quarters."

Artemis's optics widened. Stepping up security was one thing...

...of course. They still didn't trust her.

But what could she do?

With a nod from both her and her forced companion, they left the war room. Once they did, Ultra Magnus brought his attention to Blaster.

"Monitor her communications with any non-Autobot personnel," he ordered curtly.

"Shouldn't pose too much of a problem," Blaster retorted with a salute.

"I don't trust her liaisons there," Ultra Magnus then explained upon noticing Rodimus's expression of slight confusion. "The Four Winds is a Sirian establishment...and Sirians are known for their neutrality as well as duality in wartime."

"Sirius II is a commerce planet," Kup added. "Where some might consider shady dealing, most is honest buck. Although I can't say that I can speak on behalf of Four Winds...their creed is not to take sides, unless one of their own is in need."

"Define 'one of their own.'" As the heads cleared out, the other Autobots milling around almost aimlessly as if trying to hide the fact they were eavesdropping, Kup, Ultra Magnus, and Rodimus stayed behind in the war room to discuss matters further.

"Artemis is a member of their mercenary guild," Kup pointed out. "That much she's told me willingly. Even more so, they were the ones who set her up on this last mission of her's, to steal the Unicron chip. She didn't know who was doing the hiring until after she agreed."

"Do you believe that, Kup?" Rodimus leaned forward on a high-back chair, his arms crossed over the back.

"I tend to...it sounds like the Artemis I knew. Jumping into the water before checking for Sharkticons. Even though she has done mercenary jobs for the Decepticons in the past, she's worked for other, more quote-unquote 'reliable' sources, mostly for the Sirian government itself."

"Again, I think it would be better to keep Skyfire in her shadow for a while," Rodimus nodded. "In the meantime, we have work to do."

Ultra Magnus and Kup agreed as the three went their separate ways to different parts of Autobot City.

Kup had barely entered the security station when he noticed his comm button blinking with a quick pulse. An outside call...?

Sliding into his seat with a slight groan, the blue and grey Autobot thumbed the switch, bringing the monitor to life.

"Autobot City Security," he greeted gruffly.

_ "Kup, you old bastard, they must be hurtin' to have you on security!"  _ A thick, jovial tone chortled as the digital image cleared, revealing a large, dark blue and rust-trimmed Transformer on the other end.

"Darxtar! I haven't heard from you in ages! What the hell are you up to these days?"

_ "Staying out of trouble, I hope. Listen, old friend, I thought you'd want these...I owe you one for the Battle of Cygnus IV..." _

"What are you talking about? I pulled you out of a sludge pit once, and that was back when we were colonizing Beta Cybertronia before the Great War."

_ "Same diff. You know, the boss would kill me if he found out I did this, but seeing that my girl could use all the help she can get...and you're probably the only one who knows she ain't gonna stab you in the back..." _

"Darxtar, are you talking about-"

_ "Yeah, I am...something deep's going on here...with the hot-on-the-market meat and Galvatron's insanity, we're stepping up the security around here. And I'm not willing to stake any of my girls' sparks on this. I'm downloading all of our files on our girl to your system. This includes employment records, job history, everything. Even the slag she did prior to Four Winds, under me." _

"Why are you giving me this?" Kup questioned, inserting a blank DAT tape into a drive next to the monitor, commensing the download.

_ "Ain't it obvious? There's some mean slag going down, and I really think Art's over her head on this one. But she won't listen if I tell her that. And your buddies won't listen to me. I'm a Decepticon."  _ Darxtar snorted.  _ "Her records might have some use to you; I figure you can find us with them. It's you and me, old man. Both of us know she's a good girl with a bad taste in friends; she trusts the wrong people. Let's try keeping her out of trouble, shall we?" _

"We've got a lot of work ahead of us, then," Kup chuckled ruefully.

_ "Indeed we do. Remember, Kup, you didn't get these from me; I included a search permit from the Sirian Triumvirate issued to you exclusively on the basis that you, now being legal sponsor and guardian of one of our employees, are only going to use any and all information for her protection." _

"Catch-22, old friend," Kup cursed under his breath. "What you're saying-"

_ "The Autobots do anything to Art, it comes out of your skidplate. I know, but I also know that the Bots wouldn't do anything drastic save for issuing a shadow to her. She is a very useful informant, isn't she? " _

"I should have known you would pull something like this on me." Kup popped the DAT as soon as the transfer was completed.

_ "I can't watch her from where I am; gotta go with someone I marginally trust." _

"I'm honoured," he grumbled, deadpan.

_ "Hey, once you get your Quints settled, and we get the Nebs and the Cons off our backs, you should come up here and have a drink, just like old times. In the meantime...you never saw me." _

"Must be a damn glitch in the comm..." Kup banged the terminal with the palm of his hand, switching off the unit as he did. Leaning back, he glanced down at the tape in his hand. He and Darxtar did go a long ways back; they had been good friends growing up on Cybertron, long before the Great War, when Autobot and Decepticon were simply different models. When Darxtar refused to take sides, operating a seedy backwater pub in Polyhex's Old Port as more of a courier station between sides, Kup still remained close, receiving information from the passive Decepticon when needed, until Shockwave's troops decimated the bar almost a millennia ago. Darxtar escaped with his life and what records he could grab before the place was torched, returned to Cybertron to start anew once Megatron returned to power, keeping an even lower profile. After the Autobots won back Cybertron, he relocated permanently on Sirius II.

With a flip of the internal comm switch, he hailed Rodimus and Ultra Magnus to security.

Whatever was on this tape, he brooded, they needed to know about it.

*

Artemis brought up two screens, once in her quarters. Skyfire stayed nearby, sitting on the recharge bed, leafing through one of her scrapbooks she had reclaimed while at the Four Winds.

_ "How did you fare on your mission?"  _ Elita questioned sincerely.

"The Decepticons bought it," Artemis nodded with a slight smile. "Sidewinder brought his buddies to find out more information from Darxtar. Sad to say, if it wasn't for those idiots, we might have had a problem."

_ "What happened?" _

"Nothing serious now. Just some rogues trying to rough up the place. Anyhow, the bait's been set. Scourge was searching out for me as well there. Poor Skyfire," she shot a slight grin to her much larger friend, who looked up somewhat, surprised. "Got into his first bar fight. I really think he would have kicked Scourge's ass save for that one nettlesome rule about starting fights there."

"I would rather not talk about that, thank you," Skyfire interjected.

"Anyway, Ritter delivered, as I knew he would. How's Apollo?"

_ "Back terrorizing the medics, I'm afraid. As long as the three of you weren't in any danger..." _

"Well, commerce planets are the best place to search out information, especially if you know where to look. Anything else you need, Elita?"

_ "Unless you have any more information on the Decepticons' tactical situation..." _

"What I know, I've already told you."

_ "Then until next time...keep in touch." _

"Likewise, Elita." She entered a code on her keypad. "Go ahead, EDC."

_ "Hold on a bit..."  _ The blond human took the place of the pink Transformer on screen.  _ "There. You were being tapped, for just reason, of course. I take it you have a friend in the quarters..." _

"Skyfire's with me, yes."

_ "Arty, Arty, Arty...you and your flyboys..."  _ Minerva winked.  _ "Back to business. I'll keep it brief. Joz here at EDC has managed to get the search for Luke MacArin called off. I had to use half the Sirian Codex of and , along with the IA Codes, but I did finally get them to recognize that we did it in the kid's best interest. However, Detective Lovecraft might still hound you; he's made the connection between you and me with our last job together. Though he is dazed about me, there's a possibility that he might still bug you a bit. Anyway, it's best that you lay low from the bar for a bit; best place for you is right there on Autobot City. Sure, you're always welcome, no matter what, but with the situation escalating with the Nebs, Baen Sidhe, and quite possibly even the Minion Decepticons, as well as Drez not wanting another drunk Bruticus incident, for your own safety...yadda yadda yadda..." _

"I understand, Minnie. Give everyone my regards."

_ "Watch your ass, Art." _

"Same to you, Minnie. And thanks." Finally, flipping off the terminal, she sighed, resting her forehead on the desk.

"I envy you, Skyfire," she broke the silence after a cycle, her voice muffled. The large transport looked up, his optics wide.

"What do you mean?" he questioned, standing from the bed and striding over to the desk.

"You see so simply...you only see right and wrong. I can't. Everything's blurred to me." She drew another breath. "I never intended to betray the Autobots. But I couldn't side with them. It didn't feel right to me."

"And siding with the Decepticons did?" His voice was far from accusing; he was curious, Primus bless him, to hear her out.

"I sided with neutrality, Skyfire. To choose a side would mean I would have to choose between those I considered my friends."

"Then why did you wear the Decepticon sigil?" Again, his question was geard towards learning.

"Because, at the time, it allowed me to pass checkpoints on Cybertron during the Great War...it granted me more freedom to walk amongst the Decepticons with only loaded looks directed towards me and not guns. It proved more useful than to sport an Autobot symbol and get slagged or no symbol and still get slagged."

"Why didn't you side with the Autobots then?"

She chuckled darkly, her head still resting on the surface of the desk.

"There's more to war than black and white, old friend," she exclaimed."You know part of the answer already...but another has nothing to do with Starscream...in fact, I would imagine he knew nothing about it, since I am not dead by his hand."

Skyfire knelt, attempting to meet her optics. Artemis finally decided to humour him, turning her head ever-so-slightly with a slight smile touching her lips.

"What self-respecting femme would be caught on Cybertron during the Great War?" she then demanded of him.

"Artemis, what are you saying?"

"I was a spy for Elita-One," the black femme sat up, stretching her arms over her head. "If one must speak of betrayal, I was more of a traitor to Megatron and Shockwave than I was to the Autobots. I did do my part in the war, but only on my terms. I didn't wish to be involved with the fighting; it wasn't my style."

"Then...you joined the Decepticons to benefit the Autobots?"

_ "Kup to Artemis." _

The black femme held up a hand to halt Skyfire's questioning. "Yes, Kup?"

_ "I've gotta commend you ...your taste in friends may be horrific, but you've got some powerful higher-ups. Come to Security ASAP." _

"Will do, Kup." She sighed, leaning back with her fingers laced behind her head. "Wonder what Drez did this time?"

"Artemis?"

"Let's continue this later, big guy," she patted his cheek, standing. "I'm going to check in with Kup."

*

"I am not amused one bit," Detective Lovecraft snarled, kicking up a cloud of dust on the otherwise vacant Oregon road as he drove his Mustang reaching speeds of nearly ninety miles per hour. There was no way- _ no way! _ -he was going to let this case drop as easily as the EDC allowed it to. In his book, the good guys won, the bad guys lost, and that's that. He spent the past two days arguing, discussing, and questioning with the precinct captain as well as some officials at the Earth-based EDC. All told him to drop the case as well.

"Goddamn politics!" he swore, striking the steering wheel with the heel of his hand as Gorgeous George continued to wail out the bluesy lyrics. "Damn bureaucracy! I joined the force to stop that kind of crime!"

He growled somewhat, narrowing his eyes as he stared dead ahead, towards the lighted Autobot City on the horizon.

"I'll never find peace of mind until I get to the bottom of this." He sighed, flipping off the tape deck and listening to the radio. He had not changed it since he woke up on the side of the road two days ago; KBOT was still tuned in.

_ "Konbanwa, fellow gearheads, this is Cavalier taking you into the overnight on this beautiful Thursday evening, ending that rock slide with ‘Gearjammer!’ We're digging into the annals of some killer vinyl right now for a little Analog Underground, and I just pulled out a hot little number! Fasten your seatbelts and crank up the decibels, 'cuz here comes Ministry, with 'Jesus Built My Hot Rod!'" _

That's it. Cavalier.

Nate's finger drummed against the shift in thought. If he could get her to press charges against Luke, the EDC would have to intervene, bringing the case to the IA...which meant that the Sirian trade regulations would have to be reconsidered...right?

"Damn, I should have paid more attention in extraterrestrial law," he grumbled as the guitar riffs roared from his speakers. "Why does politics always have to get in the way of my job?"

The radio suddenly died as his CB crackled to life.

_ "Hey, Snake Eyes, this is Lady Jane. I thought we were catching Dropkick Murphys tonight at the civic center, over."  _ Zoe Sommers voice demanded over the static. With a curse, he picked up his handset.

"Sorry 'bout that, Lady Jane. Got a little off-duty investigation to get done. I'll have to take a raincheck. Over."

_ "Dammit, Nate, get over it. The case is closed. We have our hands tied now. It's not worth losing your sanity, or worse, your badge, over it. Now why don't you just turn around and-" _

"I'm sorry, Zoe...I really have to get some answers before I'm ready to call it quits."

_ "Fine then, hotshot. Just don't do anything stupid, you hear?" _

"Don't worry...I know my checks and balances. Snake Eyes out."

This was not going to be fun, he realised sardonically. No warrant, no real jurisdiction...no case period.

Only questions.

"Judge Dredd had it easier," he snorted, cranking up the radio once more.

***

Autobot City

There was one thing Artemis hated, and that was being ganged up on.

The sense of overwhelmingly being outnumbered washed over her as she stepped into the security room, facing off with Kup, Ultra Magnus, and Rodimus Prime.

"Uh-oh..." her breathed. "What did I do now?"

"Not what you did now...what you have done..." Kup reverted his attention to his screen. "Quite an impressive record you have here...dataruns through Rokkan territory, artifact retrieval...Betelguesean jewel convoy, very impressive..."

Artemis's optics widened as she dove towards Kup's station, staring over his shoulder in horror at the screen.

"Where did you get that?" she demanded curtly, her jaw slack.

"Seems as though you've got a guardian angel," Rodimus pointed out simply. "As mixed as this information is."

"Where did you get that?" She repeated. Kup pulled a sheet of paper out from the printer and handed it to her passively. Standing upright, she skimmed the printout, her helm shadowing her optics to dimly lit shards of ice blue.

"I don't believe this..." She balled one hand into a fist, planting it on her hip as she waved the paper. "A search permit? How did you ever obtain this?"

"You ask too many questions, lass," Kup stated, returning to his skimming.

"I don't believe this...those were supposed to be private..."

"They are, lass...the four of us are the only ones who know about them."

"I don't believe this." Artemis bowed her head, shaking it slightly. "How far do those go back?"

"From what we could tell, since after the start of the Great War," Rodimus replied, his tone even, hiding any emotion.

Her head snapping up, she strided around Kup's chair and sat on his control panel, forcing him to look at her.

"Darxtar," she interjected shortly. "He's the only one who would have my records that far back."

Kup on allowed a somewhat solemn grin before continuing. "Unfortunately, by getting my hands on this..." He waved a hand at the screen behind Artemis, "...I had to...ahem...agree...to be your 'sponsor and guardian...'"

At first, the black femme's expression was a simple pout, which suddenly broadened into a mischievous smirk.

"Do you have any idea what that means, old man?"

"I have an inkling that's turning into a headache really fast."

"Meaning you guys are stuck with me, and you, my old mentor and friend, are responsible for my actions, just as you're responsible for anything that happens to me." She chortled somewhat, standing once more.

"Please tell me that means you're going to behave around here..."

"Um...is that a good or a bad thing?" Rodimus questioned the silent soldier next to him.

"My guess would be bad," Ultra Magnus retorted, deadpan, as Artemis looped her arm though his.

"You know, it's going to work out fabulous," she grinned, looking up at a somewhat annoyed Ultra Magnus. "I can get you anything wholesale, no prob...information? I got information...I got connections for information. I know where all the best deals are. It all has to do with connections...and I got 'em all!" 

"What just happened here?" the leader gaped somewhat at the sudden mood swing.

"What are you so happy about?" The blue and white ground transport demanded to the smaller femme.

"Because she's a scheming little witch, that's why," Kup growled, creaking out of his chair. "Tell me you didn't plan this..."

"Cross my spark and hope to die, Kup, I didn't..." Her demeanor grew serious once more, though not releasing Ultra Magnus just yet. "I'm surprised that Darxtar would hand me over to you like that..."

"Please explain to us what's going on," Rodimus sighed, regarding Artemis with an interesting cross of amusement fighting to overtake all seriousness.

"Okay, here's how it goes.” Artemis released Magnus. The Autobot leader, unused to this side of the glossy black mercenary, found himself actually beginning to like the rogue. "Sirians pretty much own half the galaxy as it is. When Darxtar--my old boss from Polyhex, who used to hire me out, mostly off-planet stuff, though I did a little under-the-table freelance stuff for Elita--"

"Hold it," Ultra Magnus held up a massive hand, Artemis halting her monologue with a slightly surprised blink. "We're talking about Elita-One?"

She nodded. "Do you really think she and her girls survived four million stellar cycles with guerilla tactics without an inside scoop of the enemy base? Anyway, Darxtar's little organization was bought by Four Winds Corporation of Sirius II, his employees, his contacts, everything, went to them. Including my partial contract. So now, instead of being contracted by a Cybertronian-based company, I was contracted by a Sirian-based company, which meant better benefits, paid vacation, everything. My contract got a wee bit thicker...okay, two-hundred pages thicker, Sirians love legal business. I couldn't be as picky about the jobs I did, but they knew what I wouldn't do: contract hits, assassination, basically anything that I didn't have to physically harm anyone directly, if not intentionally."

"Lass, get to the point," Kup chided.

"I'm getting there, old man. Anyway, 'sponsor and guardian' is a term used for more of a sub-contracting position, usually for orphans or refugees or anything of the like who are otherwise alone in the world. Basically, Darxtar--perhaps under the suggestion of Drez--handed Kup my contract and records, deeming him my sponsor and guardian. Generally, it's a practice for companies to trade employees when needed. It's normally a short term effect, anywhere between one and ten stellar cycles, or until the contract employee becomes a full-status member of either corporation."

"All right, we get that far...but what does it have to do with Kup?" Magnus demanded.

"That's the bad news, lad," Kup chortled, glaring at Artemis.

"When a contract employee changes hands, or even when they first start out working, then need to have a sponsor to keep tabs on them. With the guardian tagged on, it's more...erm...Kup, help me out here..."

"In other words, as she said before, I'm stuck with her. It's just that: a guardianship. However, there's a catch."

"Nothing bad can happen to me," Artemis scooted back on the console, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and looking up at the three males. Her tone, once again, grew serious, and even in her optics grew solemn. "If I get in trouble, or worse, slagged..."

"...it's out of my skidplate," Kup finished for her.

"So it means she has to stay out of trouble," Rodimus shrugged. "Last thing we want to do is piss off a potential ally, especially if the Sirians are as influential as you claim them to be."

"Do you realise how difficult that is?" Ultra Magnus demanded.

"I know, lad, I know." Kup sighed as the three regarded Artemis once more, who was now smiling innocently. "Stop that, lass. It only confirms my suspicions that you're out to get me."

She stood once more, arms now clasped behind her back,her expression humbled.

"Look," she exhaled forcibly. "This wasn't my idea. Personally, I would think everyone would be better off if I had returned to Four Winds or camped out on Reicere than come here. I know I have a problem with trouble following me everywhere I go. I've tried to play the good girl, but no matter what, I've always ended up facing a loose end of my past that needs to be tied up. It's usually something I have to do on my own, too; I never wanted to drag you guys into this...especially you, Kup...Magnus...I kind of hoped I was out of your lives...so I couldn't hurt you again."

"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you betrayed us," Ultra Magnus chided shortly.

She bowed her head, her optics dimming.

"I never intended to betray anyone," she hissed, apologetic. "Least of all you, Magnus."

"It doesn't matter now." Surprisingly, it was Rodimus who spoke. "What matters now is that we have Quintessons to worry about, in this solar system. Which means that if they attack, the Decepticons may take a chance and attempt to follow. The Quints might not take a chance in attacking Cybertron again, but even with Autobot City and the EDC, Earth is still a large target for them. And until we can either drive them out of the galaxy or vape them once and for all, no one's leaving here unless it's for a damn good reason." The young leader rubbed at his optics, releasing a dejected sigh. "Artemis is the very least of our worries. She's already proved her worth as an informant with her contacts. Kup, since it seems you're her new employer, she'll work with you."

"Rodimus, is that wise?" Ultra Magnus questioned.

"You know, normally I would protest, but I see Magnus's point of view," Artemis appended. The large Autobot glanced down at the glossy black femme with an expression very nearing surprise. "I mean, 'mech’s worked with Decepticons, she might relay our plans and security perimeters to Galvatron even though she despises him and wants him dead more than anything...' Oh, don't give me that look, Magnus, that's exactly what you're thinking." Her attention returned to Rodimus. "Kid, listen...I can tell you're really concerned, all of us are...but I shouldn't be on security detail with Kup. I won't turn on you, but the other Autobots won't take too kindly to that notion that you have an ex-'Con working security."

"I thought you said-" Rodimus's optics narrowed somewhat.

"What is true and what others believe is true are two entirely different levels," Artemis rifled back without breaking a sweat. "Again, I know how many people think. You had to to be in my line of work."

"And we have no way to know if you are indeed telling the truth," Ultra Magnus stressed.

"Believe what you will, Magnus." She pulled out a laser disc etched with a purple Decepticon from her arm compartment and handed it to Kup. "I downloaded that prior to leaving Charr for Unicron's head."

"What is it, lass?"

"It's the backup to Galvatron's mainframe aboard Trypticon. What's on it, I can't really say; I honestly don't know. I haven't had time to look at it. Regardless, there might be information on that disc that might be useful to you."

"And you've kept it to yourself this long because...?" Ultra Magnus's tone was accusing.

“I didn't think it would prove important until now. It's probably just slag we already know anyways."

Kup took the proffered disc, regarded it for a moment, then set it down on the console.

"Is there anything else that you're hiding from us that we should know?" Once again, Magnus's tone took a dive, this one even more on the line of maliciousness than before.

Artemis's own glare iced over as she locked optics with Magnus, obviously bothered by his accusation.

"Back off, big guy," Rodimus ordered. "If she does, she'll tell us in good time. Right now, let's get our minds back on the Quints, okay?"

"Aye, the lad's got a point," Kup agreed. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're taking this a little too personally."

"I am merely stating my concern." Ultra Magnus composed himself coolly. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do."

"Sure thing," the red and yellow leader nodded as the large ground transport strided out of the security room. After he was out of earshot, Rodimus hissed, "is it me or is that stick stuck up his tailpipe wedged further up there than normal?"

Artemis cast a downwards gaze to the floor, then bolted after Magnus.

"Hey, where are you--" the younger male sighed forcefully, knowing perfectly well Artemis wouldn't heed him. "--Going. Kup, what's going on between those two? Magnus is taking her presence here pretty bad."

"In his mind, lad, she betrayed him all those stellar cycles ago," Kup answered truthfully. "That's one thing about Magnus you should know...he is a cut and dry soldier. He plays by the rules, and strictly at that."

"And Artemis lives to break those rules, so I gathered."

"She makes her own rules, which are drastically different from Magnus's. They make sense to her if no one else, which tends to give the illusion that she fights dirty." Kup eased himself back into his chair. "I'd be lying myself if I told you I understood her. Even before the Great War, she was avant garde in her thinking, always questioning authority when something didn't make sense to her. Reminds me somewhat of you, lad."

"Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?" Rodimus's tone was of a cynical jest.

"Well, it depends. Art had friends on both sides of the Ridge. She just listened to the wrong advice. I'm inclined to believe what she says." He tapped the DAT tape port. "Darxtar was built Decepticon, but he hated Megatron with a passion. He never liked war to begin with; in fact, if you can believe it, he never liked conflict save for the occasional bar brawl. As rough as he is, he's pretty trustworthy. Always been honest with me."

"As long as you're okay with this," Rodimus nodded. "But Artemis should still be considered a security threat, nonetheless."

"I'll probably just have her doing low-end guard duty. According to Darxtar, she doubled as a bouncer when they were understaffed."

"Why am I not surprised?"

Kup only chuckled. "Well, look at it this way, lad. If she's under Sirian contract, then her loyalty can be bought only by whoever holds her contract. And right now, we have all four-hundred and some-odd pages of it. Theoretically, the only way she would be loyal to Decepticons is if we hired her out to them, and I don't think we're going to do that any time soon."

"You know, I'm not exactly too keen on business, but wouldn't holding her contract mean we're sub-contracting to her previous employers?"

"Good Primus, lad..." Kup's optics widened in realisation.

"What? What did I say?"

"You're absolutely right. The Sirians sub-contracted one of their employers to us...meaning they've more or less chosen a side."

"Huh?"

"Lad, we just managed to get one of the more powerful empires in the galaxy on our side with this." Kup pointed towards. "That manipulative little vixen just gave us an edge over the Quintessons. The Sirians were the ones who helped the humans set up the EDC. They're defense systems are the most sophisticated this side of Cybertron."

"So, in other words, we're entitled to a twenty percent discount at all Sirian outlets?"

This time, Kup gave Rodimus an exasperated look as the younger Autobot shrugged sheepishly.

"Get back to work," the elder ordered, returning to his console. "I've got some reading to catch up on."

*

"Magnus!"

The large blue and white Autobot halted in his tracks at her beckon, though remained glaring straight ahead, refusing to give Artemis his gaze.

"What?" Coldly, he narrowed his optics. He heard her footfalls advancing forward just before he felt her hand on his arm. Fighting the urge to shake it off, he instead finally glared down at her, somewhat surprised to find her head bowed, her posture in a defeated slouch.

"'I'm sorry' won't do much good, will it?" she then hissed.

"Not particularly, no."

"Didn't think so." With a sigh, the black femme dropped her arm to her side. "We could never be friends again, could we?"

"No."

"Yeah." Her voice grew soft, quiet. "I wish I could show you my reasoning...my way of thinking...why I did what I did..."

"Frankly, Artemis, I don't really care." Ultra Magnus stepped forward to leave her company. "As far as I'm concerned, you're right; the Artemis I knew is gone. You're a rogue taking her name and form."

The black femme dimmed her optics as he continued on his way, before unlatching her rifle from its sheathe at her leg.

"Magnus!" She beckoned once more, her voice wavering.

This time, Ultra Magnus turned, only to fumble somewhat, catching her airborne weapon.

"I lied," she regained her proud posture, though her stance angry, her hands balled at her side, chin up. "I told you the Artemis you knew was gone. If that was the truth, I wouldn't be feeling this terrible knowing I caused so much pain to those I had considered my friends and family." With a slight nod, she exhaled deeply. "Go ahead, Magnus. In your optics, I'm just another Decepticon...well, what's the universe with one less Decepticon?"

"No." He tossed the rifle back to her; Artemis caught it deftly with one hand, hitching it back to her leg in one fluid movement.

"Why not?" She strided to his side once more. "You've been wanting to since I came here. What's stopping you?"

This time, Ultra Magnus walked away without replying.

"Magnus, why not?" Artemis repeated, more forcibly, taking step a few meters behind him.

"It is not my place to judge you," he replied angrily. "Let the others learn that your charisma is only a facade to your true intentions, whatever they may be. I can only warn them."

"You don't think it's possible for me to change, do you?"

"No."

"It doesn't matter the fact that maybe I want to return home? It doesn't matter that I might want to be an Autobot again?"

"No."

"And that I'm wasting my time trying to talk to you, trying to make amends between us?"

"It will take more than a few well-chosen words to make amends!" He became short, facing her so swiftly she almost staggered back, her expression actually showing surprise at his outburst. "What you say and what you do tend to be two entirely different actions entirely, Artemis. This was true even before the Great War. Frankly, I'm tired of it. Right now, the best thing you can do for me is to leave me alone. Don't talk to me unless necessary, don't bother crossing my path. Just leave me alone." He resumed his stride, this time taking up a stormy air around him; this time, Artemis remained behind.

"Thank you, Magnus," she called after him. "You helped me get a lot off my chest...and prove a point."

With that, she pivoted on her foot and headed back to Kup's office.

Her final statement raised a series of questions within Ultra Magnus's processor as the Autobot City commander faced the door to his office, his mood still sour. Pushing every thought concerning Artemis out of his head, he stepped forward, the sliding door hissing open--

\--there was a slight pop as something exploded in a bright orange mess near Ultra Magnus's face.

Stunned at first, the large Autobot wiped at his face, only to confirm his speculation that ten-mile orange paint now coated his head, shoulders, and splattered his chest, as well as spread over the walls, door, and floor in the immediate area.

"What the...?" He stuttered somewhat, spitting somewhat. It dawned on him that he had fallen victim to a practical joke of some sorts, something that would not be tolerated in his book.

"Whoa, man, what happened to you?"

Ultra Magnus turned sharply to face Jazz and Bumblebee, both seeming as surprised as he was at the after effects. Both smaller Autobots fought not to laugh, and were failing miserably.

"Tell me the two of you weren't responsible for this."

"No way, man!" Jazz held up his hands in defense.

"We know better, supposedly," Bumblebee hid a snicker with the palm of his hand.

Ultra Magnus continued his stern look for another five clicks.

"Clean this mess up," he finally ordered, still short-fused. "I want a full investigation for any possible suspects responsible for this."

"Hey, chill out, big guy," Jazz chuckled. "It wasn't as though someone tried to kill you or anything...it's just a harmless practical joke."

"Are you admitting to it, Jazz?"

"No way, man! I'm just saying, lighten up!"

"Think of it this way," Bumblebee had already opened a nearby storage closet and pulled out a scrubber and solvent from its depths. "Someone took the trouble to try to make you laugh, right?"

"This is hardly amusing."

"To you, maybe," Jazz sniggered under his breath, then feigning an apologetic expression to the Autobot City commander. "Look, man, we're not all the soldier type...some of us, to keep our sanity, have to do slag like that...it's all meant in good, clean fun to keep our morale up."

"Well, not necessarily clean," the small yellow Autobot's mood suddenly soured as he took the scrubber to the wall. "This stuff's not coming off too easily."

"What the hell happened here?" Cavalier, accompanied by Stormrave and Zodiac, demanded as they joined the small gathering. The white and black Autobot then noticed Ultra Magnus and issued a high-pitched giggle. "You'd better get that cleaned up soon...if that's ten mile orange, it's not gonna clean up easily unless you have some paint stripper."

"I did not want to hear that," Ultra Magnus grumbled, retreating into his office with what little dignity he still held on to, the door sliding shut with a hiss.

Zodiac, fighting a snort, suddenly guffawed, leaning up against Stormrave for support as he clutched his midsection.

"Good Primus, whoever pulled that was genius!" he cried out. "Iffin ye's knows who did it?"

"No clue," Jazz shrugged, getting beamed with another scrubber, thrown by Bumblebee.

"Ask me four million stellar cycles ago, and I would say our buddy Art," Bumblebee added. "But she's probably outgrown that a long time ago."

Stormrave, between snorted chuckles, pushed Zodiac off her. "Still, I wouldn't think this would be the time or the place for practical jokes, especially with the slag that's been going on lately. It's one thing during peacetime, but it's not appropriate when we've got the Quints and the Cons-"

"Stormy, lighten up, you might end up the next victim of the Ten Mile Orange Bomb," Cavalier warned melodramatically, studying the door's pressure panel. Optics narrowed, she leaned down and popped the floor panel open. "Wow...this had been rigged pretty good."

"What are you talking aboot?" Zodiac questioned.

"Pressure sensitive switch," Cavalier retorted, removing a small gadget from the wiring, unhooking two wires from it. "This isn't part of the wiring...it's a trigger of some sorts...and by the way it's set up, it was geared for something extremely heavy...ie, Ultra Magnus. In other words, had I walked over the switch, nothing would have happened. And I'm betting..." she stood, following the crack in wall where the door retracted to. "Yep. There's a wire running from there to...here..." her finger traced up to the top of the door. "Hello, what's this...? Jazz, I need your shoulders."

"Huh?" He hadn't time to truly react before Cavalier bounded towards him, pushing up on his shoulders to pick her frame up, then over his chest. With a cocky agility, Cavalier then hopped, now standing on his shoulders, her hands balancing on the top of his head.

"I'm too short to see what's up there. Anyway, don't take that the wrong way; you're not my type." Pressing a hand against the wall, she edged herself into a full standing position, one hand still maintaining a hold on the wall, the other wedging into the crack of the door at the top. Extracting something from the crack, she then jumped down from her perch on Jazz and chortled at her findings.

"Paint grenade." She held up the broken shell, covered in bright orange. "Someone had rigged a paint grenade to explode in Magnus's face."

"But who?" The four demanded uniformly.

"Elementary, dear Watson," Cavalier tossed the shell over her shoulder. "Who has it bad for Magnus, but would not want to hurt him physically?"

"Everyone but Skyfire?" Jazz questioned.

"Well, that narrowed it down," Stormrave grumbled.

"My vote's that Cav did it," Zodiac pointed out, "and she's just gloatin' the fact she's a brilliant airhead."

"As much as I would love to take the credit for this, it wasn't me. My vote's for Rodimus."

"Let's pin the blame on the guy with the Matrix! What a great idea!" Bumblebee heckled, nearing hysterics.

"Quiet, BeeBee," Cavalier ordered. "Come, gang, let's solve this groovy mystery."

"So we can bring the perp to justice?" Jazz questioned, somewhat deadpan.

"No, so I can congratulate the dude on a job well done."

"Don't any of you have anything better to do than loiter in front of my office?"

Cavalier jumped suddenly at Ultra Magnus's rhetoric. With a slight wave to the irate city commander, she picked up the evidence and bolted down the corridor, snickering as she did.

"We'd better keep an eye on her, or else we'll be having a copy-cat bomber on our hands," Stormrave suggested dryly.

*

Rodimus ran into Artemis in the corridor, just a few meters away from Kup's office.

"Hey, Art, you okay?" the leader questioned. "You look like you lost your best friend."

"I did, kid...my lack of foresight is to blame," she answered truthfully.

Rodimus fell silent, his face betraying his search for something to say.

"Rod, forget it," she then smiled, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You've got a good head on your shoulders...just that Magnus believes strongly in his convictions. You're not going to be able to make peace with everyone. Trust me; I've tried."

"Well, as long as you're cool about it...you know, Kup trusts you...I tend to listen to him more than anyone. Just..." he sighed, managing a slight smile. "Just try to stay out of trouble."

"Not asking too much of me, now, are you?" she jested with a wink. "Don't worry...I won't cause any trouble unless you want me to...after all, you now hold my contract."

She strided past him, into Kup's office, as Rodiums watched her, waiting a couple of clicks before resuming his venture down the corridor.

The door sliding behind her with a slight hiss, Artemis then threw her arms around Kup's neck, propping her chin on his head.

"Whatcha doin'?" she questioned. Kup rolled his optics, shrugging her off gently.

"Trying to make heads and tails of this damned contract of yours!" he retorted, grumpy. "Can't those damned Sirians use sentences under twenty words long?"

"They like to be thorough...and they like loopholes to benefit the employer."

"Oh? Do tell, lass."

"Well, if I told you, there'd be no fun in it. So, anything you want me to do around here, or can see if I can get Skyfire piss drunk..."

Kup drummed his fingers on the console impatiently.

"You're out to drive me into senility, aren't you?"

"Now why would I want to do that?"

"All right, wise-guy, first mission." Kup spun in his seat to face her. "Round up Springer and Blurr and start locking down the defense grids. You can handle that without blowing anything up, can't you?"

"I'm not accident-prone, old man." Artemis chuckled, exiting once more.

Kup grumbled intangibly as he returned to his screen.

"Darxtar, old friend, how did you ever put up with her?" he questioned under his breath.

*

"Primus, what happened here?"

Bumblebee and Jazz both glanced up from their scrubbing to regard the tall black femme before them.

"Magnus fell victim to someone's practical joke," Bumblebee answered.

"Man, you should have seen him!" Jazz hooted. "Paint everywhere, screaming 'Shoot me! I'm a target!' It was great!"

"Who did it?" Artemis questioned stoically.

"We don't know," Bumblebee shrugged. "Cavalier took off with the evidence."

"Then she did it?"

"She said she didn't, but if it happens again, she's sure as hell gonna be blamed," Jazz exclaimed.

"Wonderful. We now have a practical joker among our midsts. Anyone tell Rod or Kup yet?"

"Well, Rod walked by a few cycles ago..." Jazz dissolved into a fit of laughter.

"Magnus won't be getting a sympathy vote from him, the way he was cracking up," the smaller Autobot chortled.

"Is Magnus all right?" she then questioned sincerely.

"His dignity's a bit bruised, but I think he'll pull through," the black and white sportster wiped at his optics.

"As long as he isn't hurt." Artemis glanced at the office door, obviously wanting to go in to check on Ultra Magnus, then decided against it. With a nod, she strided past Bumblebee and Jazz.

Both of them failed to notice the wide grin forming on her face as she turned at an intersection in the hallway, leading towards the service corridors.

Not many treaded within these walls; she was alone.

Which wasn't a good thing, she soon realised, when a sudden chill brushed past her.

"What's up, Flyboy?" she hissed under her breath, folding her arms across her chest. She could sense his presence at her shoulder; however, there was no retort for at least half a cycle.

"You dare betray me," Starscream finally snarled angrily.

"How do you figure that?" She glanced around, resting assured she was indeed alone physically. Making note of a security camera over her head, she continued down the hallway as if nothing was going on.

"You DARE betray me!" his voice hit his trademark hysteria note.

"The others won't be able to do it alone," she whispered. "Galvatron is too strong. We need the Autobots to weaken Galvatron's Minions. However, they won't take the offensive unless advised. In order to do that, I must earn their trust, Magnus above all."

"That will take too long!"

"We can't do it overnight; there's too many details. We have to take it slow, or else your key players are destroyed. Then where would you be? You have all the time in the universe now, flyboy. You can learn some patience."

"Do not tell me what I can and need to learn! I am your superior officer!"

"Of course you are," she muttered. "Just leave it to me; Galvatron will pay by the extension of your arm, I promise you that."

"Feh. I want results, Artemis. Not betrayal to my cause!"

"Guile and subterfuge, flyboy," she stated. "I am only one bot. But would you truly wish to risk losing an army? Remember, I'm doing this out of the kindness of my spark for you."

Abruptly, upon mentioning this, she felt hard, icy fingers clench around her spark. Her air intakes refused to draw a breath as her optics widened in shock.

"I bet you are, Artemis..." his voice was a serpent's, painfully close to her auditory sensor. "You know I reward loyalty...but betrayal will not be tolerated. Remember that." The metaphysical fingers loosened their grip, caressing her spark lightly, before finally dispersing.

Once the cold, ominous chill finally vanished, she sucked in a deep breath, leaving one hand at her chest.

And, for the first time, doubt filled her mind.

"Artemis to Kup," she hailed on her comm link.

_ "What is it, lass? You sound like you've just seen a ghost." _

She fought a sardonic laugh.

"Kup, I'm suddenly really drained. I haven't recharged for a good forty megacycles, I just realised."

_ "Primus, lass, why didn't you say so? Get back to quarters and report back to me in eight megacycles. I don't want to hear a peep from you until then." _

"Thanks, Kup. Artemis out."

Turning on her heel, she quietly headed to the lift to the resident quarters.

Things have become quite complicated, she realised sullenly. She couldn't continue playing both sides of the field any more.

At this point, it was obvious what side she should choose...but she was in so deep, how could she ever escape the fathomed depths?

*

Cavalier actually ran into Detective Lovecraft quite by accident.

She had exited to the main gate to "think;" rather, she had a human-sized boombox in her hand and a dataport in the other, with intentions to going up to one of the external ledges of Autobot City and vegging out, playing some video games and listening to tunes in the Oregon night air.

The detective had just exited his car as she breezed past with an excited stride; with a sharp whistle, he demanded her attention.

She pivoted sharply towards the whistle, looking down at the detective with a questionable twinkle in her optics.

"Yo!" She greeted brightly. "Whazzup?"

"Cavalier, I need to speak to you about Luke MacArin," Lovecraft pointed out bluntly.

The Autobot blinked-rather, dimmed her optics quickly-and cocked her head to one side.

"Dude, I thought that was over with," she finally remarked.

"On the EDC side. However, I've got a file sitting on my desk that can't be closed until I find out all the details. I need you to help me fill those gaps."

"Sorry, dude. Can't help you." Cavalier, though her featureless face unyielding, her expressive optics told otherwise of loyalty.

"So you're going to let the perp walk for hijacking you, is that it?"

"Yeah, pretty much so," she rifled back, anger biting her voice. "He was scared...didn't want to take the fall for that exhaust port who fingered him. Why ain't you concentrating on real criminals like drug lords and political murders and slag like that?"

"Because it's the same thing that's hiding MacArin as it is the white collar criminals," Lovecraft leaned against his car, his arms folded across his chest. "Protected from the law by bureaucracy and money...the shit we police officers are told to look the other way...and if we don't, they get a slap on the hand and released the next day."

"I'm missing something here," Cavalier stated bluntly. "How is a drug lord like a kid who didn't do anything save break a couple of EDC regs that were cleared due to the circumstances?"

"That's exactly my point! The circumstances! Due to the circumstances, a senator who drives drunk and kills a pedestrian is let go because of his money and power and, god forbid, reputation-"

"I'm sorry...I'm missing your logic..."

"What's going on here?"

Both the human and the Autobot snapped their heads towards the form of Rodimus Prime, striding towards the two.

"I thought the investigation was picked up by the EDC?" The red and yellow Autobot then questioned Lovecraft.

"Then dropped into the circular file," the black haired detective snorted, "leaving gaps in my own report large enough to drive a Mack truck through."

"Then why aren't you rattling the EDC's cage instead of ours?"

"I've tried that; it's no longer city Police jurisdiction. However, the EDC won't return my calls, or they send me around their departments. The only way I'm going to be able to get some answers is by finding them myself."

"Then wouldn't that require you to have a warrant to even talk to us? Last I heard, when the EDC came into being, any and all extraterrestrial sentients answered to them, not to the individual governments."

"Again, I have to wade through red tape in order to get to EDC's front door to request one!" Lovecraft sighed. "Well, then, since I won't be getting any information from you, I might as well take off. Thanks for your time anyway."

"Yeah, no problem," Rodimus crossed his arms over his chest as he and Cavalier watched the human get into his car, turn over the engine, and throw the transmission into drive. Upon his departure, the leader bowed his head.

"What I wouldn't do to be Hot Rod again..." he chuckled ruefully. Cavalier's optics widened as she tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. He met her gaze out of the corner of his own optic and smiled. "I'm serious. This diplomacy slag sucks. So do some of Earth's rules and regulations...hell, all rules suck..."

"Wanna go break some with me?" Cavalier questioned, her characteristic, mischievous twinkling in her smiling optics. "Go racing, catch a concert, get plastered...raise some general hell...hmm?"

"As much as I love to, Cav," he sighed again, "I can't."

"Yeah, responsibility, duty, whatever," she nodded, her optics dulling. "Ah, well..."

"Maybe sometime later, when we don't have a borderline crisis on our hands."

"I understand, dude, no problem," she shrugged nonchalantly, attempting to seem unphased.

"Speaking of which, do you know anything about that paint bomb that nailed Ultra Magnus?"

"Nope, but I'm bound to find out."

"You didn't do it, did you?"

"As I said to Jazz and Beebee, I didn't, but I wish I'd thought of it first. The mechanics of the bomb is so simplistic but ingenious, all at the same time. This is the work of someone with a familiarity of explosives and trigger devices; no regular joe practical yuckster like me did this. Not yet, anyway."

"You're not saying this to throw your trail, are you?"

"Rod, you know me better than that," she winked. "And technically, you're on Ultra Magnus's suspect list if I'm on there too."

"Wait a minute..." Rodimus furrowed his brow. "Come to think about it, the pranks pulled on Magnus increased when you came Earthside."

"'Increased?' You mean other people pulled pranks on him?"

"Let's not get into that."

"But seriously, Rod, are you saying I'm responsible-"

"Not exactly..." He snapped his fingers. "Cav, think about it...who else came aboard at the same time you did?"

"The Deceptichick," she retorted shortly. "So why is she a suspect? Besides the obvious? And anyway, why should she care about pranking Magnus?"

"You know, up until this morning, I would be asking the same questions. I think Kup would have an inkling what might be going on."

"So you want me to talk to him?"

"No, I will. In the meantime, though, since you're the expert on prank devices, keep an optic peeled for them. Disengage them if necessary. I don't really want to face a pissed off Magnus."

"Responsibility talking, Rod?"

"Actually, the fear that he might blame me for these have crossed my mind more than once."

"Good point. I wouldn't want to be on his bad side either."

"I don't think Artemis would either, but then, I don't know too much about her."

"I don't think you will, either." Cavalier crossed her arms over her chest, wincing somewhat in pain. "She's a 'Con, Rod. She's one of the bad guys, regardless of her symbol. Don't trust her. Peeps like her use their good looks and manipulation to get what they want. She'll sell us out in a heartbeat, if paid enough."

"Cav, I understand your concern," His voice grew low as he turned to face her. "She's proved her use gathering necessary information in places we would never think of looking, as well as her connections through the neutral districts of the galaxy, places where they wouldn't deal with either Autobots or Decepticons. Kup seems to hold some authority over her to begin with."

"Oh, she's got you suckered bad, Rod," She sighed forcibly, shaking her head. "I don't care if she was a 'Bot before, she went to the 'Cons! That's enough to get my hackles raised about the whole situation!"

"I understand your concern-" he repeated, before she clamped her hand over his mouth.

"I don't care what you got in your chest, there...right now, I'm telling you as someone who's known you ever since we were in mechanic rag diapers and baby formula motor oil on Beta...be careful of her. I don't trust her."

Rodimus nodded finally, his optics serious.

"I'm sorry," Cav dropped her hand, turning away. "But this is one thing that Magnus and I see optic-to-optic."

"I will, Cav. Don't worry about it."

She listened to him walk away, back inside.

"Feh. Why should I be concerned?" she sneered under her breath, looking over her shoulder. "He's got nine million stellar cycles of Autobot leaders looking after him...what does he need from me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"The disk!" Black exclaimed. "How do I access it? Mac, we need that intel from Trypticon!"  
>  "Brash admitted she didn't look at it," the bartender stated. "It's up to you to see if she was telling the truth or not."  
> Black's shoulders slumped. "Yeah, she was being truthful. It was a bartering chip, nothing more. Scrap!"  
> "It's okay, my girl; there's still more to comb through."  
> "We were so close," Black growled.   
> "We still are." Mac smiled, patting her hand. "Remember, Trypticon is second; Metroplex first. And right now? You're within Metroplex. You should be able to pick something up soon. Maybe not now, but soon."_


	12. Thus Spake Epistemus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Pay attention, my boy; a warp in our tapestry has taken shape. Weave the loose thread back in place or cut if away, but either path will lead to a different tangent. The moot had failed, leaving only you and I to speak of what-ifs and should-haves. But above all else: the order of curation and the chaos of transformation will find balance._
> 
> _But not now. Now we must focus on repairing the damage done by the attempts to fix the tapestry by clumsy, unskilled, or heavy hands. Let us see about embracing the flaws, and strengthening the tears, reinforcing the warps and weaving them in to become part of the fabric that is our spacetime._
> 
> _We have all the iterations in the multiverse to get it right. It need not be done right the first time._

Artemis lay on her recharge bed once more, her fingers laced behind her head, staring up at the ceiling, one leg crossed over the other at the knee.

It's a natural feeling, she remembered Minvera telling her, when the human first joined the Four Winds rankings. Nowhere as old as Artemis, Minerva still possessed much greater experience in mercenary and espionage, it seemed, especially when dealing with emotions. That's the problem with most people. They fail to see beyond what's right and wrong. There's a third, what needs to be, part in existence, something that isn't right nor wrong, sometimes both at the same time. It's a concept that a lot of people don't want to accept, don't want to bother with, chiefly for the fact that it complicated their version of reality. Reality must be mutable, ready to change at any given moment, to benefit the grander scheme of things.

What is the grander scheme of things? Artemis recalled asking, her tone at the time sceptical of the human's words.

Who knows? The way I look at it, if you do what you think is you have to do, no matter what anyone else does, then it is the will of the multiverse.

By that rationale, the black femme pulled herself back into the present, would that mean that Starscream is doing his part in the grander scheme of the multiverse? Is it the multiverse's will to twist him from the scientist of the past to what he was up to and after his death? Why?

Dimming her optics, she envied her human friend's ability to weep.

Why did she do it? Magnus had demanded of her countless times, in person and inside her head.

Because it made sense.

Revenge. Specifically, on Megatron. Megatron warped her Polyhex-based scientist.

But aren't we all responsible for our own actions?

"Dammit!" she furrowed her brow, rolling over to her side, facing the wall.

It's perfectly fine to question motives, Art, Minerva had explained to her fifteen years ago. As it is to wonder what exactly drives us. Preordained? Random? Maybe a little of both?

Maybe, she pondered, as she slipped into her rest mode.

A sudden, strange feeling of nausea washed over her as she witnessed a strange transition through the wall of sleep. Her quarters dissolved into a stark hallway, the floor brushed metal, casting no shadow, the walls built of circuit boards and wiring, the absence of a ceiling into a black void.

"It's dreams like this that make me realise how boring my life is sometimes," she grumbled, her voice lacking the reverb. By now, she was becoming used to the ethereal sensations.

"I wouldn't say boring." The small form of blue Artemis faded in like a cheshire cat, her smile wide. "It's a bit complex to explain fully." She snapped her fingers, as if she had struck an epiphany. "I know someone who would be able to...I met her that night the Virus took root."

"What?" Black adult Artemis demanded as the child took her hand.

"You'll see." Blue Artemis tugged as her adult counterpart's arm, leading her through the hallway. As they progressed further, the walls began to warp, burnt, twisted, melted, cracked, till finally, only chunks of circuitry hung suspended in the void.

In the quiet, dead world, Artemis jolted aware of other voices drifting from directly in front of her. Like her past self, two figures phased in, two more children, though one seemed slightly older than Blue Artemis, the other, younger. Both seemed to be Cybertronian of some sorts, possessing more of a beast transformation such as the Dinobots or Predacons than vehicular alt modes. The female, a slight feline-appearing child, the one younger than Blue Artemis, laughed heartily, before looking at the newcomers. Swiftly, she was to her feet, running towards the two. She tackled adult Artemis into a bear hug around her leg.

"Art! You've come!" she exclaimed brightly, her blue optics wide and trusting.

"Tera, she doesn't know you yet," Blue Artemis chided somewhat, like an older sister scolding her sibling. "Nor will she until the time comes."

"Oh." The feline child she had called Tera released Artemis's leg, then clung onto Blue Artemis' arm. "Virus?" she whispered to the other child, almost in fear.

"What's going on?" Black Artemis demanded her younger counterpart.

"It's the effects from the Virus." Who answered was not the dream-induced Artemis; rather, the other creature, a male adolescent with what seemed to be an avian/reptilian hybrid transformation, stood, staring up at her through a mirrored visor. "We're shadows of the future, if you can fathom that. Because of Unicron's unique temporal existence-"

"You're from his past, but my future, I know...the weird cat creature told me." Black Artemis grew short-tempered. "Why is this happening? What does it all mean? How can we purge the Virus?"

"You won't find that out just yet, Arty." Footsteps from behind her, heavy and metallic, echoed against the brushed metal floor, as the felinoid semi-organic returned. Tera instantly ran to the crone's side, taking hold of her terrifyingly clawed hand, without any fear. "Not for another two hundred stellar cycles, at least. There is a reason why Unicron implanted various Transformers with these visions."

"So that things will go his way by having us do the work for him," the avian Transformer stated, somewhat cocky.

"And that's bad," Artemis retorted coolly. Her younger counterpart laughed, hugging the larger Autobot's arm.

"In this case, it might not be," she pointed out.

The male nodded. "What we're looking at are two cosmic forces at war with one another. Order versus Chaos. However, if Order wins, then we might have to deal with an entropic cataclysm...or rather, we wouldn't be able to. Everything would be inert."

"Skyfire, enough," the crone chided.

"Skyfire?" Artemis regarded the male quizzically.

"Not the big guy," he chortled. "No relation, really, save for one link which we all share-"

"Skyfire, enough!" This time, the creature hissed distastefully.

"She has to know sooner or later!"

"He's right!" Blue Artemis agreed.

"The three of you, please, leave me to discuss this with Artemis." With a gentle touch, the crone patted Tera's helm lovingly. "Go with Li'l Art and Skyfire, dear...I'll be with you shortly."

With a reluctant nod, the smallest child aspect ventured away from her and to the avian male, who picked her up onto his shoulders. Blue Artemis also nodded, striding away from her adult form. Slowly, the three phased out, leaving only Artemis and the crone.

"What's going on?" the black Autobot hissed.

"Skyfire was right; this is part of the virus." The creature spread her arms out, indicating the warped, surreal landscape. "We're inside one of your own memory banks, Artemis. This is where the virus imbeds itself. However, it's programmed to duplicate itself into the temporary folder after the initial startup."

"So what can we do about it?"

The crone smiled, a cruel gesture that exposed a full set of white, sharp teeth.

"That's the kicker, Art; you can't. It's part of 12 million years of Cybertronian evolution. We've adapted so that the carrier virus is in fact part of our programming. When the catalyst is introduced, there are only two strains in which those infected react...one is a painful reformatting, as Soundwave and his children are suffering from; the other..." The creature trailed off with a sigh.

"The other...?"

"The other is extremely difficult to explain, but a dream state inducing precognition is one of the symptoms."

With a defeated sigh, Artemis then demanded, "How did I get lucky in the lottery?"

"From what I can tell? You’re needed for some reason. What, I'm not entirely sure."

"Well, excuse me for not jumping out of my seat to help long dead deities to destroy the universe.."

"I think there's more to the story than destroying."

Without any other words spoken, the crone faded from existence.

"Yeah, that's it. Leave me with more questions." Sinking to her knees, she leaned on one arm, her head bowed in thought. "I didn't ask for this slag. Only proves that we're only playthings of the gods, I suppose."

One finger tapped impatiently against the floor.

"You know, I would like to wake up now. I've pulled off jobs that took decacycles with only a couple of megacycles sleep."

Silence. Somewhere behind her, a cricket chirped.

She covered her optics with one hand. "Tell me that wasn't my sense of humour pulling pranks in my own dreaming..."

"Nope, just me for a bit." The avian Skyfire hopped over her stretched out legs to look up at her face. "I only wanted to tell you one more thing while you're here; it doesn't really matter, I was fooling around with figuring out the virus shortly before I was cut off rather rudely by...well, that doesn't really matter at this point who did...but anyway, it doesn't really matter what you hear here...this is where it's stored, and the virus will go through and destroy crucial blocks."

"In other words, I wake up, and I won't remember anything."

"Well, not anything. You'll probably have brief glimpses, fading images in your head, deja vu, but nothing more."

"Wonderful."

The avian turned to leave, paused, then regarded Artemis once more. Though the mirrored visor, she could make out barely deep blue optics.

"And Art?" He smirked somewhat, an action that gave her the chills with faint memories from long ago. "I'll try bringing him back to you...I swear."

She blinked; he had vanished.

"This is just getting too weird..." she gazed up at the void above. "Like I’m...going mad..."

"Depending on what one would constitute for madness, I suppose."

A new voice, this one was male: deep, friendly, and with a normal Transformer electronic resonance, almost welcoming.

"The others are gone; you won't be confused by them any more."

She did not bother to turn around to face the voice.

"Well, what about the confusion they've already caused?" she demanded curtly.

"That'll fade, either by you realising it what it means, or by forgetting it." Casually, the newcomer sat next to her, cross legged, back straight as he too stared up into the void. Artemis glanced over at him, her brow furrowed. She considered him Optimus Prime, with the similar helm and face plate; however, he was built more streamline and rounded, crimson, mediterranean blue, and grey with a amber-tinted windshield, an Autobot symbol etched into the corner of the glass and stained red. The colouration itself was dead familiar as well, but Artemis found it difficult to remember who it reminded her of.

"Who are you?" she questioned bluntly.

"Call me Felis." His ice blue optics smiled warmly. She met his gaze quizzically. Light blue was a rare colour, she knew. Usually reserved for Autobots who specialized in search and retrieval functions due to the less pigment and therefore more light allowed into the sensor relays, allowing those who possess them to be able to see in almost zero light, the practice was phased out just before she was built. She had believed that Vector Sigma probably ran out of the darker blue optics and slapped an old pair into her head to get hers; she wondered what this kid's excuse was.

"Strange name, Felis."

"It means Luck...it fits me," he shrugged, almost shyly. Definitely a kid, she thought. Probably around the same generation as Rodimus and Cavalier.

"And where did you come from?"

"I was kinda hoping you wouldn't ask that." He leaned forward, taking hold of his heels. She then noticed another odd quirk about his hands: the fingers were tapered into points, like talons or claws. "I think the best way to explain would be that you can't afford to have a good-angel/bad-angel complex at a time like this...when you realised that you're trying to play two sides when you really can't be...I guess I was brought to light of your predicament...does that make any sense? I tend to ramble."

"So are you a figment of my imagination or something else?"

Felis laughed, a deep, resonating sound that was not unpleasant at all. In fact, for the first time since the dreams started, Artemis felt more comfortable.

"I guess you could say that. I guess you can call me a mediocre angel."

"You do a lot of guesswork, kid."

He pointed upwards. She followed the sharp-pointed finger, about sixty degrees from the horizon. A swirl of galaxies, it seemed, spread from the point, fading as the spirals left the main mass.

"What is that?"

"It's the Allspark," he hissed, seemingly afraid to break the moment. "It's what connects all of us, good and bad, past, present, future. I have reason to believe the Unicron virus is creating links to certain Cybertronians with the Allspark, since both Unicron and the Allspark are chiefly chaotic." Felis sighed, looking up at the spiraling stars. Artemis stole a glance at his profile, noticing the spoiler on his back, almost as large as Seeker wings-

"Good Primus..." she whispered. "I get it now. Instead of the personifications of my morality, or lack of, the two melded to form...you?"

He brought his attention to her, optics wide, inviting her to explain further.

"Since I started taking Decepticon jobs, I kept having these...flashes..." she scooted on her knees to face him. "Like, Orion--Optimus--would ask me if it was the right thing to do...only in my head. And Starscream-again, in my head-would talk me in the other direction...it's the classic morality debate, only personified in my head as the two bots I-" She stopped abruptly, blinking somewhat in realisation. "Oh, slot it...I should have given up on that traitorous bastard when he started listening to Megatron..."

"Two bots you cared for?" Felis placed a hand on hers. It was surprisingly warm. "Everyone makes bad judgment calls. Maybe you didn't, but Starscream did. Or maybe both of you did. But you didn't turn on him when he was alive, did you? You couldn't. Why?"

"Because I despised Megatron." Her voice grew cold, hard. A sharp wind suddenly picked up, chilling the dead air. "He created the Air Commander. My hatred for what Starscream had become was doubled back on Megatron, ten-fold. And to see Starscream succeed in destroying Megatron would have been justice enough for me...and let the scientist I once knew rest in peace once and for all."

"Now it's become revenge," Felis dragged his heels up, so now he hugged his knees to his chest. His voice was soft, almost ashamed to say what he did. "Not only that, Megatron killed your best friend...the vengeance piles up..."

She wanted to be angry; rather, she only nodded, bowing her head.

"That's about the sum of it, kid."

There was a slight silence.

"I'll explain myself further," Felis met her gaze again. "In reality, I'm on Beta Cybertronia...or maybe Sirius II...perhaps even Earth...about three hundred years from now...or maybe fifty. I'm not entirely sure. All I remember was I was in a battle where I ended up taking a shot for my Prime...and the next, I was in the Allspark. I know I'm not dead...I can still feel the constraints of my shell. But the Allspark, the Matrix told me that I was needed here. And so here I am."

"So you do exist...or you will exist," Artemis smiled somewhat.

His optics smiled back. "I never thought I would ever meet you in my lifetime, either."

"My reputation precedes me, I take it."

"You would be surprised. I've looked up to you all of my life."

"Don't tell me: you're a soldier-for-hire with a streak of honour, I bet."

"Actually, I'm a Convoy."

With a sly smirk, Artemis chuckled. "A lesser Prime? And you looked up to me? Kid, what have you been drinking?"

"I think it had something to do with the fact all my team could hide behind me and use me as a shield during enemy fire."

She laughed. "Somehow, you seem more of the peacekeeper than the warrior to me."

"I try to be. But things don't work that way."

"Not at all...so, am I still around in your time?"

"Um..." Felis seemed to be deep in thought about that. "I'm going with the safe answer and say yes."

"Good, because the moment you wake up, I'm gonna ask you out for a beer."

This seemed to cause a rather shocked expression to Felis's optics, which quickly melted into a series of nervous chuckles.

"So why me?" she then questioned as he composed himself. "There must be a reason for this. I mean, why am I not in a catatonic state like Soundwave?"

Felis shrugged somewhat. "I honestly don't know-"

There was a sudden drop in pressure around them, causing Artemis to gasp somewhat in surprise. Felis jumped to his feet, seemingly unaffected by the pressure drop, staring up at the swirling mass of stars above the horizon.

"What's going on?" she demanded, finding it very hard to breathe.

"I don't know!" His voice was panicked, worried, his optics seemingly searching for answers in the spiraling galaxy. "It's time I leave, Artemis...I'll be back, I swear!"

A plummeting sensation overwhelmed Artemis as she fell through some sort of hole, optics widening in horror as everything seemed to stretch out of proportion, even the young Autobot, blinking out of view.

She was in the void once more, falling-

\- and snapping awake with a loud gasp, jolting upwards. Shaking her head somewhat, she brought her knee to her chest, proppinger her elbow against it as she hid her face with one hand.

"What the hell is going on?" she whispered, checking her internal chronometer. Six megacycles had passed since she had entered her rest cycle. Oddly, though it didn't seem like it, she felt somewhat rested, with the exception of some sort of lag in her processor. Quickly executing a system diagnostic, she stood from her recharge bed, striding over to her terminal.

Too much was going on at once, she realised. The Four Winds had their worries with the kid; that wasn't her concern. The Decepticons, the Quintessons, the Virus...those were her problems she had to deal with, if not with the Autobots then on her own.

Her internal scandisk fixed a few sectors that had been dumped into her temporary directory, then deleted those files.

With a flash, she suddenly saw the drop, where the red-blue-and-grey Autobot that wasn't Optimus fell from her sight. With another shocked gasp, she shook her head once more, this time more furiously, her optics wide. Other faces whizzed past, though they were far from recognizable, save for the Convoy's.

"Felis," she whispered, rubbing at her optics.

***

Charr

Morale was low, of course; this was nothing new. Many felt as though they were no longer an army, a driving, conquering force second only to the spanning Sirian Empire. Now, they were mere pirates, disgruntled soldiers with no real fight anymore, pushed only by a madman for a leader who really couldn't care less of the depressed numbers.

Even as they gathered around in the crude courtyard, grumbling amongst themselves, casting shifty glances at one another, wondering who was truly an ally and who would end up betraying another.

Stern glares met the three heads of what remained of the Decepticon Battle Fleet. Following the insane leader, the dominant second-in-command, and the grovelling Sweep commander, was the neurosurgeon, Mindsurge, his lankish form smug as he breezed past Galvatron, Cyclonus and Scourge to take his place amongst the circle of other Decepticons. Behind them...

"Soundwave?" many hissed upon seeing the broad-shouldered spy master; Rumble, Frenzy, and Ravage stood at his feet, while Laserbeak perched on his shoulder. Buzzsaw and Ratbat both hovered around him.

"Yes, the information we stole from the Autobots was in fact useful in the cure, however temporary," Mindsurge boasted. "He still has the virus, however, it has regressed to late Stage One and, as long as we can isolate any other catalysts and continue the treatment of manually-technically speaking-dumping his temp files, he will remain at Stage One, for as long as I can tell, indefinitely."

"What about the rest of us infected?" Scourge demanded curtly, cowering somewhat once he realised he had spoken out of line with his leader.

Galvatron did not retort to the Sweep Commander; rather, he then directed his stare to Mindsurge."

"You are not to stray from this project, Mindsurge," the leader ordered sternly. "You will not rest until we have fully cracked this virus and are able to use it to our advantage."

"If this is in fact an epidemic amongst all Cybertronians, then what good would it have against the Autobots?" Cyclonus then questioned, standing at attention when he noticed Galvatron's hand rise as if to slap his second. However, the mad leader did not follow through; instead, he cupped his chin with that hand in thought.

"Indeed...if the Autobots too are affected, then it will do no good to our cause."

"Unless we can find a way to mutate the virus to be deadlier," Cyclonus muttered under his breath, watching his puppet leader out of the corner of his optic. Galvatron's own blood red optics widened in realisation, as if he had struck the epiphany on his own.

"Of course! Mindsurge-"

The lithe green and violet Decepticon groaned somewhat for only those close to him to hear, rolling his head to regard the leader.

"Isolating a common strand to attack only Autobot circuitry may prove problematic, but it is theoretically possible." As cruel and sadistic as the neurosurgeon was, he was incapable of lying.

"Wonderful. Get to work." Galvatron's optics narrowed dangerously. "I'm tired of waiting. Tired of hiding with our tails between our legs. Before this stellar cycle's out, we will attack our enemies and be triumphant; we will bring the Decepticons back to their place as the rulers of this galaxy! This, so swears Galvatron!"

If he had expected the troops to jump up and cheer, he would have been extremely disappointed. The other Decepticons regarded one another in mixed emotions, expressions ranging from "Is that a good idea?" to "the idiot has finally lost it."

"Lord Galvaton, if I am speak," the cold, rational voice of the slight femme of the group, Desertstrike, called out, standing with her head somewhat bowed in deep respect. Galvatron, taking this as exactly what he wanted for subordination.

"Yes, Desertstrike, speak!" he waved a hand at her, almost warmly.

"We should consider our energy resources; sending the Sweeps to neutral territory when not needed, only to have the drones destroyed," this, she directed to Scourge with an indifferent gaze, a damning look that Galvatron fell for to place blame on the Sweep commander. "That was unnecessary loss. Now we might have lost a potential and powerful ally as well-"

"-Idiot!" Galvatron snapped, not to the femme, but to Scourge. Desertstrike, as well as many of the others knew perfectly well had it been anyone else save Scourge or Cyclonus, her accusing stare could have meant death.

"She's good...she's damn good," Swindle hissed, the other Combaticons nodding slightly. Thundercracker agreed as well, though more to himself, almost sadly. "Too bad she's such a frigid little glitch."

The blue and white Seeker made slight retort in defense, instantly backing down as the Combaticons gave him a collective, all-knowing smirk.

"Boy, did you get a crush on the wrong mech," Onslaught chortled.

"Will the lot of you just shut up?" Thundercracker questioned, fighting his embarrassment.

"Leave him alone," Astrotrain suggested curtly as his optics never left center stage. "We've got better things to do than to worry about getting the kid laid."

Thundercracker's optics dimmed as he ventured away from the six to stand alone, his optics brooding.

"Gotta wonder sometimes about that guy," Blastoff whispered. "He's too soft."

"That's why he'll take the fall if Galvie ever learns," Swindle warned with a twisted smile. "Better a border-line Autobot sympathizer than us, right?"

"Yeah, sounds like a plan," Onslaught agreed, casting stray glare at the lone Seeker. "Without Starscream and Skywarp edging him on, he's got no one."

"And the loners are the most trouble," Vortex observed.

Astrotrain said nothing.

"Then it's settled!" Galvatron then shouted, causing all who were deep in thought-or who were bored out of their neural processors-to actually jump. "We will attack the Autobot colony on Cygnus IV in a decacycle's time!"

"Cygnus IV? That's a military complex," Hook pointed out.

"It is the furthest Autobot outpost from Cybertron," Cyclonus explained, however shortly. "They rely on the base facility itself to defend the colony. However, with no true production factory, they must have troops flown in from Cybertron or Beta Cybertronia, some forty light years away."

"Yes, by the time reinforcements do arrive, there would be nothing left of the colony, and we would return home victorious!" Galvatron chortled, before his face contorted angrily. "Now, will there be any more discussion or insubordination?"

The others took that as a cue to shut up, and, upon Galvatron's order of dismissal, the crowd dispersed, moody and dejected.

*

Thundercracker realised he was meandering, lost in thought of the coup being staged. Too much for one bot, he realised. Even here, even though the others felt the same, it was still a primal army; everyone for themselves, and allies were good only until they outlived their usefulness. In a tight pinch, he knew that ultimately, someone would not hesitate to betray another in the case of begging for one's life.

Who else knew of the ultimate plan?

His gaze fell on Rumble and Frenzy as they followed Soundwave back into the makeshift base. They were part of it; Rumble even claimed that he had a run-in with the ghost of the Air Commander when Thundercracker informed Galvatron on the topic of the Autobots believing Starscream might still be alive. If they were in on it, so was Soundwave. But Soundwave was loyal-

\- to the Decepticon cause.

Soundwave would not betray the leader of the Decepticons, Thundercracker realised. However, the spy master was not exactly up to par at the present time. Even prior to the Unicron virus, it was obvious that Soundwave, though still carrying out Galvatron's orders, was not at all happy in doing the biddings of a madman. Would Soundwave make an ideal leader for the Decepticons? Would they be willing to follow one whose arsenal was of subterfuge and espionage? Perhaps not; Soundwave seemed to be settled on working in the background. Of all of the non-Minions, Soundwave was still Galvatron's favourite.

But would Soundwave betray the plans?

For Rumble and Frenzy, no. Once Galvatron was imcapacitated, Soundwave would find a way to restore Megatron's old persona. And following Megatron, as much of an idiot as he could be, was loads more effective than Galvatron.

Thundercracker sighed, finally picking a direction and, firing his jets, headed towards the lip of the ridge.

***

Maccadam’s   
Iacon

The door swung open, granting the visitor entrance. The bar was in the process of remodeling; drop cloths covered the furniture, weighed down by paint buckets. 

The lone occupant did not look up from his tidying. “Not quite ready to open, mind,” he admitted, his accent hinting at an old Iaconian dialect. “Nothing on tap, you know.”

“I am aware of that, Maccadam,” the visitor nodded. “I need to see you. I seek your wisdom.”

“Ah, yes, I knew you’d be coming later rather than sooner.” The broad mech leaned his broom against the covered bar. “And it is later. The original moot had failed, and collapsed as a result. This is a revisiting, after all, as the original epilogue was deleted. A retelling. A use of future knowledge.”

“That’s my fault, I know.”

“You did what you could to save your friends, my boy. It’s what anyone in your position would do. It just so happened that it destroyed unfinished threads to this universe.”

“You shouldn’t be here, Mac.”

“And yet I am. This is where the iterations warped our reality, at least for this iteration, into many others. Like a ripple in a pond.” Maccadam tapped the side of his nose with a smile. “Remember that, my boy. It will come up in the near future. 

“Soon, I’ll be able to reopen. Not yet. But that’s not your question, nor is it the wisdom you seek. What troubles you?”

“What happened to the original ending?” 

“Ah, my boy, it was edited and parts deleted, replaced by...well, this.” Maccadam spread his arms wide, indicating the bar. “Such as the way of Mentis Mutati. The Mismatch.”

“I caused this when I tried to stop the quantum explosion,” the winged mech muttered.

“Yes, you did. But it’s not necessarily a bad thing, lad.” The bartender gestured for the mech to come forth, closer to the bar. “Sometimes it gets messy, with strings left unfinished, unwoven into the fabric of spacetime. True, it’s easier to cut them and pretend they never existed...but then there are others, such as yourself, who attempt to weave them back into the fabric. A skillful weaver can make them appear as though they never unravelled in the first place.”

“I don’t know how to weave,” the boy admitted. “I was clumsy, and because of it, all this happened.”

“Again, it’s not always a bad thing. A story too perfect is uninteresting. It’s predictable. No, those flaws, those individual fixes? Those can strengthen the weak areas, create interesting stories behind the tears and breaks. That’s why we’re here. You and I. I should not have shown up until the third iteration, but because of a break, now I’m here. The pronouncement of Epistemus ahead of your arrival is also part of that same flaw in spacetime. And you, while you came into being in this iteration’s future, you stand before me, seeking my wisdom, as it were. So back your question: the original ending, as with the unedited iteration, still exists, elsewhere, still accessible for those who search for it. But it is no longer relevant to the tapestry you are currently weaving.”

“And why did it happen? The explosion, the arrival? Why is it causing our reality to warp?”

“Because such is the nature of the multiverse. The order of curative, the chaos of transformative, the balance of both. Sometimes they favor one over the other. Sometimes, it can be in a name. Your original namesake, for example, only goes by that in this iteration. Why is that?” Maccadam folded his hands together. “You do not need to answer that. There is a logical explanation, but it may not be to us. Now, tell me, dear boy: what do you think is causing this particular warp? You do know the answer.”

“Did I do the right thing?”

Maccadam smiled, reassuringly, encouraging the young transmetal Maximal to continue without a word.

“Luminaire will die because of my actions,” Hellfire admitted.

“And she will also live,” Maccadam corrected, “because of your actions. But right now? This is not her iteration; she has yet to be born, and that is no longer your concern.”

**Author's Note:**

> _Brash swirled the near-empty bottle of whisky, fist against her cheek and elbow on the counter. "Who," she stressed, "were you referring to, Mac?"  
>  "All you need to know is it's not that pompous spectre," Mac reassured, removing the bottle from her grasp. "How about you take a load off and let Black and I handle things from here? You've got enough to focus on your own task without getting tangled in her ordeal."  
> "Can I ask you something first?" Brash crossed her arms over her chest. "You think they remember? The others? The ones who aren't affected by Mismatch? Or at least have an idea that it's all been done before?"  
> "It's a good question...or rather, a series of questions. As I told Black, you are likely the first iteration to manifest, and your universe, as far as I can tell, is the first in this particular tangeant. So for you? Maybe not. Maybe some have a feeling...that deja vu...or premonition...that something like that happened before...or will happen. And it may not happen, at least, until the next iteration."  
> "One more." Now Brash stood. "Whoever Black's looking for...do I know him?"  
> Mac shook his head, his smile grim. "You would know that answer already."  
> "Oh." Black returned to her seat. "That's...unfortunate."  
> Mac granted her a knowing glance.  
> "Okay, so more likely to focus the task at hand and less likely to sneak off into a maintenance corridor," Black chuckled fondly. "Well then, let's get back to work. We're getting close to another tangeant, yeah?"  
> "Not for a while, my girl. Brash has a lot to accomplish this time around."_


End file.
